


The Sails and Sea

by chibi_eren



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, AruAni, Character Death, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Mermaids, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Pirates, Slow Burn, Tags Contain Spoilers, allusions to manga spoilers, ereri, jeanmarco, past eruri, potential manga spoilers, riren - Freeform, star-crossed lovers, yumikuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 103,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi_eren/pseuds/chibi_eren
Summary: A map, a key, and a mermaid.That’s all Levi, the strongest captain on the seas, needs to claim a power unlike any known to man.**ON HIATUS** because I'm suffering through school :,)
Relationships: Levi & Eren Yeager, Levi/Eren Yeager
Comments: 185
Kudos: 299





	1. The Prisoner

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy!
> 
> I stumbled upon the first draft of this fic (that I wrote 4 years ago whoops) and decided to pick it up again! That said, most of the chapters are already revised, so I plan to update weekly :) 
> 
> Lots of love to the friends who have encouraged me to share this story <3 
> 
> Enjoy!

The breeze was cooling, calming even, as it made its journey from one end of the ship to the other. _Better than a hurricane,_ Levi thought to himself, figuring this day was ideal to be on open waters. The waves gleamed proudly back at him when he released the veranda and made his way down its adjacent stairs. Nothing compared to the satisfaction he felt after seizing a ship from the Royal Navy, but that sensation resonated tenfold since he hadn’t needed to get his hands dirty.

His newest recruits had taken their training to heart and matched up against the navy dogs with ease. He might hear complaints about them tripping over each other once victory was declared and the rum started flowing— _from Jean, more than likely_ —but pride welled within him as he gazed at the flag of blue and white wings soaring amongst black sails overhead.

“Congratulations, Captain!” squealed Hanji, who appeared from nowhere and led him to the ship’s edge. A plank served as a bridge between the two vessels, and the enthusiastic brunette could not resist bouncing her knees when she crossed over it.

“Don’t congratulate me—yet. We still need to find what we’re here for.”

His hand came up, almost unconsciously, to rest on the cravat tucked neatly into his vest as he stepped on board and took in the repulsive state of the ship. Weeks, maybe months, had passed without so much as a gentle sweep of the deck. Levi was ready to scold its remaining tenants, who sat bound in front of him, but the howls of a madman stopped him before he could get a word out.

“You!” the deranged man sang, stumbling down the quarterdeck of his ship.

‘Fallen from grace’ was an understatement. The dark blues and golds of his uniform had long faded from abuse by the sun and sea, his beard now matted and wild, the sunkenness of his eyes proof that he was no longer accustomed to sleep. Kitz Woerlmann. Former captain of the navy’s defensive fleet. A fleet that had diminished to only one ship under his command for the very reason Levi tracked him here.

“You cannot come aboard my ship and take what rightfully belongs to me!” Kitz thundered, approaching where Levi stood. His companions tensed, and Eld and Gunther stepped into Kitz’s path before he could reach their captain.

“Thank you both,” Levi started as he pushed past them. “But I can handle this.”

“Handle this? You cannot _handle_ me!”

Kitz freed his sword from its sheath and thrashed it in all directions. Levi dodged the attacks seamlessly, not even bothering to reach for his own blades. His crew stood around the fight, admiring their leader’s agility, but Hanji soon grew restless and called for more action.

“You short little bastard!” Kitz hissed.

He lunged his entire body forward, and Levi finally turned to engage his opponent. He kicked off the loose floorboards and leapt over the larger man’s head, catching his neck and sending him down. The disgraced captain, face pressed against the filthy deck, was stunned. Standing triumphantly above him, Levi drew his dual swords. Part of Kitz returned to reality when faced with the radiant blades.

“What’s rightfully yours was once rightfully someone else’s,” Levi proclaimed. “That’s the life we live, isn’t it?”

Kitz sputtered in response, slowly realizing the fate he’d soon meet.

“Your crew will have the choice to sail under me. They’ll likely be treated better as criminals than they ever were by you. I may even have extended the offer to you, Kitz, if you’d shown a bit of respect in defeat.”

“Please! Sir—Captain! I’ll gladly join your fleet! Don’t kill me!”

“Tsk, I would never waste my energy.” Levi returned his swords to their sheaths and nodded to Gunther and Eld, who each took one of Kitz’s arms and pulled him to his feet. Levi scanned the horizon and caught sight of an island past the ocean haze. It was where they had tracked Kitz and begun their pursuit of his ship only hours earlier. It would be his salvation now. “No, I’ll allow you to live, but it is up to you to escape.”

Gunther and Eld dragged the wailing man to the edge of the ship and lifted him overboard.

“No! No! They’re down there! They’re waiting for me on the ocean floor and you know it!”

“In that case, I hope you’re good at swimming.”

Pleas turned to curses as Kitz plunged between the two ships and into the sea. Levi pretended not to hear the commotion and drowned out the man’s cries as he fought to stay above water. It wasn’t personal, yet it was as personal for him as it could be.

His thoughts cut short when Hanji erupted from the crew behind him and shook Levi’s shoulders. “Congratulations, Captain!” She said again, unable to steady herself from the growing excitement.

“Get off of me, shitty glasses!”

She followed his orders, but only continued laughing when Levi scowled at her.

“Just relax a bit, okay?” It was Petra, his sailing master, who patted Hanji’s arm and looked at Levi reassuringly. He recalled the day she had chosen to sail with him, the day that they all had, and how she’d tried to seem so brave while declaring her intentions. She’d almost pulled it off, back then, but a quiver in her voice had betrayed her resolve. That day, their first one spent together as a crew, seemed so distant now.

“Captain, we questioned everyone belonging to Kitz’s forces. It should be somewhere in his quarters.”

“Thank you, Petra. The four of you address these sailors and their needs. Hanji, come with me.”

“Actually, Captain, I can assist you as well!”

“Help the others, Olou. This should only take a minute.”

The crew chided Olou as Levi and Hanji headed for the back of the ship. Levi growled when his companion flung an arm over his shoulder and nudged him in the ribs.

“So, buddy, what’s next? Months of voyaging? Evil curses? Impending doom!?”

“A quiet night where you leave me be, I hope.”

“Leviiiiiii—” Hanji groaned. She released her grip on him and stretched to block the doorway to the captain’s quarters they’d now reached. “You, my dearest friend, are already the strongest captain on the seas. I don’t see the harm in settling at that. Plus, you saw the effect it had on Kitz! You don’t need to do this.”

“If I don’t,” Levi said as he ducked under Hanji’s arms and pushed past her, “Someone else will.”

“Alrighty then. That was my disclaimer, but I’m sure you know I’m not going to miss anything having to do with magic or the mer! We’re with you, Levi.”

“I know.”

He gripped the door’s bronze handle and pushed it open.

 _Disgusting_.

A stench engulfed Levi, who pulled his cravat fully over his nose, while Hanji gagged, equally repulsed, beside him. _Filth and sleep and booze._ The pair stepped further into the quarters, crumpled parchment and broken glass crunching beneath their boots. Levi groaned at the idea of bringing anything from this ship back to his own neatly kept room. The neglected deck outside was pristine in comparison.

“I have a shitty feeling about this place. Let’s find it and get back to the _Sinna_.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice!”

Hanji scampered across the room. She checked the table, walls, windowsill, and regrettably beneath the documents and rugs on the floor.

“No luck,” she confessed, but Levi knew luck had nothing to do with it. He thought about Kitz: crazed captain, paranoid man, self-neglectful and sleep deprived—

Then he danced over the mess and found himself at the edge of Kitz’s bed. Quilts were tossed onto each other in disarray and revealed scattered stains on the mattress underneath. In an attempt to keep his breakfast in his stomach, Levi shifted his gaze and found the only object paid any attention in the room—Kitz’s pillow—perfectly placed at the mattress’s headboard.

Levi knew he had to move it, but touching such a wretched thing with his bare hands was not going to happen. He untied his cravat to drape it over his hand, and in one fell swoop he hurled the offending item far from his reach. The tension in his shoulders released once it hit the opposite wall, and he found that his theory had been correct. Resting where the pillow had once been was a small scroll of parchment. This was it. This had to be it.

“Levi!”

Her cry echoed as something shattered behind him. He spun on his heel, hands instinctively reaching for his blades. Glass bottles fell around his companion in a tidal wave, and she shook rapidly beneath them.

“Hanji!”

She stood still and silent, yet shaking with each breath.

“Look,” she began, “at… THIS!”

Her arms flew up above her head, a writhing creature trapped in her grasp. It struggled to regain its freedom, copper paws swinging haphazardly about. Its claws caught her knuckles, and she yelped in response.

“Ow! Dammit!”

“Hanji… it’s a cat.”

“It is a cat! And I love it! And we’re going to be friends!” She pulled the snarling tabby close to her chest, even as it bit at her bleeding hand.

“I don’t have time for this.”

Levi returned to his discovery and picked it up, hand still wrapped in his cravat. He peeled open its seal carefully and inspected it for signs of forgery. Fakes littered the seas, and some theorized—well, Hanji theorized—mer themselves made them to deter humans from finding their treasure. The treasure he would soon claim. This piece was authentic.

_The map._

_The key._

_The mer._

These clues were inscribed at the top of the page, and he had finally found the first of them. The map was his, and soon it would lead him to the key of the mer’s power. A dip into sea water and the blank parchment would transform into the chart needed to take him there, so the legends told. And once they’d acquired the key, his crew would only need to capture a mer person.

Levi tucked the parchment into the interior of his coat. He heard Hanji release a particularly loud groan, and he turned to scold her for tormenting the cat.

“Knock it off, Hanji. I found it, so let’s go.”

Even through her thick lenses, Levi could tell that her eyes gawked wide. The cat slumped in her arms, having resigned itself to being caught, and they both stiffened at the unexpected sound of a sharp breath. Levi motioned for Hanji to come closer, realizing how close the noise had been to him. She approached, careful with each step, but a loud crack from some glass beneath her feet prompted another sound of agony.

It had come from under the bed—he was certain of it.

Levi dropped to his knees, gripping the handle of a sword. What horror would he find living on this sorry excuse of a floor in Kitz’s personal keep?

Of his worst imaginings, none were of the young man—bare, bloodied, and held captive by iron chains—directly in front of him.

Hanji crouched at his side. “Good gods,” she gasped. “I’ll get the others, we have to get him out of there!”

Levi remained still as she fled the brutal scene, shivering with rage and disgust. The man was a fragment of what he should be. His legs lay limp, covered in scars. Large chains crossed over his body, having left scabbing and reopened wounds where they dug into his flesh. His arms wrapped tightly around his head, and long, brown locks of hair hid most of his face. He pulled further into himself when Levi leaned in too close. That slightest bit of movement made the chains clank, and the prisoner shuddered in response. He was weak, but of more significance to Levi, he was afraid.

“Hello,” he whispered, despite a growing lump in his throat. He crept his hand toward the stranger and placed it on a tight fistful of hair. The prisoner cringed and his tremors grew stronger, but Levi stroked his fingers to comfort him. “I won’t hurt you.”

Those rigid muscles relaxed, even if just slightly, so he brushed the thick strands of matted hair away from the captive’s face.

Despite the cruelties he’d endured, Levi’s first thought was that he was stunning. His eyes, though bloodshot and swollen, shone as if they were two bright emeralds. Levi had encountered his fair share of jewels, considering his trade, but immediately he knew nothing had, or could ever, compare.

“What is your name?” The captain mustered, breathless and unwilling to avert his gaze.

Though the other’s brow remained creased and his lips trembled, ever so quietly, a word took shape.

“Eren.”


	2. Myths and Maps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, we made it to Sunday! 
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos on chapter 1. I'm excited you guys are interested in this story! I decided to make a blog for this fic, so if you'd like to connect you can find me at chibi-eren.tumblr.com :,)
> 
> I won't say much more, but a HUGE thank you to my betas for their encouragement and to @sidereality for their edits and suggestions<3 
> 
> Enjoy!

Gold spiraled from the map when he dropped it into a shallow basin of water. He cleared the table of its usual settings and sat beside Petra under the flickering candlelight. The pair remained silent as the parchment’s true form was revealed: the ink of the clues scribed at the top of the page unraveled into thin lines that darted gracefully to form a familiar composition of islands. Nearest the scrawls on the right appeared a tiny “X.”

“That’s past Tortuga,” Petra stated. She cupped her chin in her hands and leaned forward on her elbows to inspect the image more thoroughly. “Close to the Northeast Isles, but more than likely still a distance from shore. It’s probably located in ocean caverns of some sort, Captain.” 

“A nest.” Levi groaned and ground a fist against his temple. His sailing master’s knowledge of the area’s geography was unrivaled, but it granted him no comfort to know she was right. “Those vile things hid it in a nest.” 

The transformation continued, and new verses of golden calligraphy danced over the center of the page. He squinted his eyes, past the distraction of shimmering dust floating around the map, and read: 

“ _For those impartial_

_Who retrieve this key,_

_All will be claimed_

_At the center of the sea_.”

“What do you suppose that means?” 

“Something of Hanji’s superstitions, I’m sure, but take note regardless.” 

“Yes, and yes,” Petra giggled as she scribed a duplicate of the print. 

A fist struck at the keep’s doors and its handle shook furiously. “WHAAAAA—Levi! Will you let Petra out of there already?!” Just a mere mention of her name was enough to summon the beast. Though it was still early in the evening, Hanji—obviously—had already had her fill of rum and wine. Stringed instruments and drunken fights clamored from the deck, but over the years Levi had grown accustomed to ignoring them. 

“Go on,” he said. “They’re missing you out there. Draft a route to Tortuga, and we’ll set sail come morning.” 

“Morning, sir?” 

After all this time, Levi still appreciated when she feigned surprise at his words. 

“I have faith our dedicated crew will sober up by then.” 

“Yes, but… there’s one other thing.” 

Levi removed the map from the water to find its images hidden and the surface instantly dry. Nevertheless, he shook it gently and rolled it back into a scroll. He was surprised when he turned from securing the parchment in the locked contents of his chest to find that Petra hadn’t moved and was staring solemnly at the floor. 

“And? What is it?” he asked. 

“We’re already close to Port Royal—too close. Sailing in the direction of Tortuga from our current location is a dangerous risk.” 

“I see. Have you spoken to the others about this?” 

“Not specifically.”

“The navy is strong, but we’ve subdued them countless times, Petra. They were unable to recapture the _Sinna_ with two ships, so I don’t find it likely that they could get in our way with the _Maria_ on the ocean floor.” 

“Even so, we’ve witnessed the commander’s persistence first-hand, and a group of traitors parading nearby with the pride of his fleet seems like a top priority.” 

“Then if it is,” Levi crossed the room, repressed memories surging in his mind. “I can take care of him.” 

“Alright,” Petra yielded as she gathered her logs and stood beside him. “Tomorrow morning it is, then.” She crossed the captain’s quarters, preparing to join the uproar outside, but paused when she reached the door. “And… Levi?” 

“Yes?” He was already back in his chair, scanning documents he had spread onto the table. 

“We miss you out there, too.”

Then she was gone, and Levi sat alone in his keep, unable to ignore the pang shooting through his chest. He inhaled deeply and stretched his arms over his head. He refused to show the others, but the thrill of victory had been overtaken by the harrowing events that had followed soon after. Kitz’s screams were a reminder of the mers’ horrors, a sickening frenzy of claws and carnage that haunted Levi’s mind, but their discovery of the prisoner aboard his ship proved that mer were not the seas’ only monsters.

He had lied to Hanji when she pestered him about what he thought of the newcomer. 

He lied to himself now. 

It was for the best that Levi had been close at hand when the young man— _Eren_ —tried walking again for the first time. Those beaten legs were so weak from the ordeal that they had buckled under his weight; it was almost like he had never learned to use them in the first place. Though he had pitiably managed the first few steps, once they’d made their way outside his prison, he’d lost his balance completely and nearly fallen overboard. 

Levi wondered how he fared now with the rest of the crew aboard the _Sinna_ . His pulse tripped as he recalled lunging after the inelegant brat, but it raced upon remembering the sensation of the other’s hands gripping his body. He’d do it for anyone, he affirmed, but his chest continued to tremble at the memory of the other in his arms and Hanji’s wide eyed gaze. _Damn reflexes were all to blame,_ even if he _had_ prevented a tragedy.

It was morning. But neither the sunlight beaming past his curtains, nor the acrid scent of expired flames on wax, made him aware of the fact. The only peace gifted to Levi was his few moments of consciousness before a jolly brunette plowed through the doors and careened into the room. 

“Good morninggg, Captain!” Hanji screeched, gliding to where Levi sat at the table, ruffling the dark hair on his head, and opening his curtains with the same grace she had the doors. “Today’s agenda includes preparations for our journey towards annihilation! I am very excited, you need to wake up.”

“I demand a new quartermaster.” 

“You’d be hopeless without me!” She set a plate of dried meat and cheese beside Levi for his first meal, but before the man could even consider eating, another creature demanded his attention. It bounded over the papers he’d studied late into the night to nuzzle him, littering short, copper hairs all over his face in its excitement. Levi pulled his meal away from the inquisitive beast, but all it seemed interested in was entertaining itself with the ruffles of his cravat. 

“Get that damned cat out of here.” 

“Be nice to Bean!” 

“Bean?” 

“Yes! It was between Bean or Sonny, or maybe SonnyBean is more fitting?”

“You’d better have bathed it.” 

Levi stood from his chair, muscles aching in protest of his decision to spend each night there. He ignored the chaos plaguing his table and instead headed for the dresser at the edge of the room. He was revolted that he’d spent the night in the same clothes he’d worn the day prior. He pulled them off of his body, feeling something akin to bliss at the thought of a day’s worth of grime no longer touching his skin, and began to rectify the situation. (Any concept of privacy he’d previously possessed had been lost the day he met Hanji.) 

“There’s one other thing,” she mentioned as he finished tying his (thankfully clean and non-cat fur covered) cravat. 

“And what is that?” 

“Your new friend, Eren, he won’t leave his bunk.” 

“He’s not my ‘ _new friend_ ,’ Hanji. Did you even try asking him why?” 

“Well, see, that’s the thing! Apparently he’ll only talk to you, considering none of us have been able to get a word out of him. I’m starting to think you made up that story about him telling you his name just to make me jealous!”

“Why would I lie about something like that?” In fact, hearing that the freed captive had avoided the others disheartened him. “And what do you expect me to do about it, anyway?” 

“Oh, cut the act, grouchy.” 

Levi turned from his looking glass and chose not to hide his scowl. 

“You saw that poor man yesterday, yet you threw him on this ship expecting him to do what? Waltz around with the others and start rigging ropes?”

“I never—” 

“Oh yes you did! I get the feeling someone’s a bit flustered around the ship’s new set of crown jewels. I bet he’s way better than everything else locked away in that shiny trunk of yours.” 

“He’s recovering.” 

“And?! He’ll be so enticing once you rub a little bit of shine into him! I know you’re thinking it, Levi.” 

Her poorly hidden giggles erupted into full on snickering. 

“That’s not true,” Levi denied, though his pink cheeks betrayed him. 

“Then prove it! You could benefit from social interaction every now and then. Take him on as a first mate.” 

“No.” 

“Levi—” 

“I said no.” 

The room descended into a despairing quiet in the wake of his vehement refusal. “It’s been six years,” Hanji started again. “No one expects you to forget, but I just want you to find a bit of happiness again.” 

“It sounds like you’re trying to distract me.” 

“Listen to yourself! Humans caring about humans is a normal human thing! Take him in, Levi! Learn his story, be his friend, fuck him if that’s what it’s gonna take! He needs someone right now, but I think you need him more.”

He released the breath he’d been holding, the air burning in his lungs. He didn’t want to listen to her, and he wouldn’t allow himself to consider if she was right, but he knew there was no convincing Hanji once she had her mind set to something. 

“He can start off as a swab,” Levi agreed. “We’ll see how he fares from there.”

“I’d expect nothing less!” Hanji scooped up SonnyBean and tucked his small body back into her chest pocket as she headed for the doors. “Now, you’re just going to have to go down and get him!” 

She was gone before he could argue further. He didn’t _want_ a first mate, and he didn’t _need_ one. The newcomer was something nice to look at, sure, but he couldn’t get attached. Levi retrieved his swords from the corner of the room reserved solely for them, and sighed. Memories of his earliest voyages threatened to overtake him, a deadly riptide ready to send him down a dark path of thinking, but he had never been one to let himself indulge in extended amounts of self pity. After latching their blades to his belt, he dried those thoughts out and started for the deck. 

“Good morning, swabbie.” 

“Good morning, Captain!” The blond boy jumped from where he was scrubbing the floorboards to salute the man. _Armin, was it?_ A newer recruit—he wasn’t up for the task of fighting or working with sails, but keeping the ship clean was arguably more important. Levi considered how the swab would manage with additional help. 

Levi strode across the deck, other members of his crew pausing to acknowledge him when he passed by, and reached the open hatch and lengthy steps that led below. Most people hated the hatch. Their heads would scrape against its frame even if they weren’t intoxicated. Levi, however, barely even had to crouch. He remembered how badly Olou’s head had bruised when he had tried ineffectively to mimic him. 

At the base of the stairs, Levi’s boots splashed into shallow puddles of seawater. Petra had advised him for months to avoid making his way down into the cabin, and the rows of messy bunks surrounding him appeared to be the reason behind it. He groaned to see something so grotesque aboard his ship; then he kicked through the water, passed Hanji’s study, and approached the only bed that remained occupied. 

He lay in the same position Levi had first found him in, shivering and curled into himself, with shaggy hair covering his face and hands clutching his head. The borrowed clothes from Gunther fell loosely around his body, the bandages where Hanji dressed the wounds on his skin peeking through. His chest rose and fell slowly, and Levi cursed himself for having simply left him down there. 

“Eren.” 

The tremors stilled upon hearing his name. A thin hand moved away from his face to reveal those emerald eyes, and Levi’s body jolted when they fixated on him. The prison aboard Kitz’s ship had been horrendous, and he thought himself a fool to believe that escaping it would be its inmate’s sole cure. Eren hadn’t spoken of it to anyone aboard the _Sinna_ , and if his former captors knew why he had been held there in the first place, they chose not to share.

“Will you come with me?” A moment passed while Eren stared at him, the crease between his eyebrows deepening, and Levi wondered if he’d understood. 

“I can’t.” He said eventually. 

“Why not?” 

“The water...” Eren paled further, if that was even possible, looking as if he was going to be sick. 

“You’re afraid of… the water?” 

Small leaks were common aboard ships, so there was always some form of water belowdecks. There was no helping it, of course, but Levi loathed the pools of it under his feet, the traces seeping through the ship’s side, and _especially_ the droplet travelling down the post of Eren’s bunk and towards his head. 

He shook weakly and nodded before pinching his eyes shut. 

“Here,” Levi said. “Come closer to me.” 

Though Eren grimaced when Levi reached an arm under his legs and wrapped the other around his shoulders to lift him, he nodded and leaned into Levi’s chest when he asked if he was alright. 

_He shouldn’t_ — _couldn’t_ — _get attached._

Most of the crew paused upon his return. They gaped at the pair—curious to finally catch full glimpses of the newcomer, and perplexed as to why their captain held him (and as protectively) as he did. It was such an intimate gesture for a man who rarely shook hands out of spite for grime and dirt. Levi ignored their inquiring expressions and instead focused on making straight for the stern. Hanji was all that stood in his way. She leaned against the doorframe to his quarters with her arms crossed, brow raised, and a smirk spreading wide on her lips. 

“Privacy please,” Levi ordered as he brushed past her.

“With pleasure,” she sang. 

Levi pushed the doors closed with a foot after entering the keep, then placed Eren gently onto the bed. “Just a minute,” he said, returning to the doors and bolting them shut, determined not to repeat his mistake from earlier in the morning. 

He was surprised to see his new bunkmate sitting upright and staring at him when he turned back. _The damned brat_ had caught him off guard, and Levi made for the shelves on the opposite side of the room under the guise of hurrying to pour Eren a drink, when really he needed a moment to compose himself. _It was those damn eyes._

“Drink this,” he said, presenting a glass half-filled with liquid to Eren. “It’ll dull some of the pain and ease your nerves.” 

Eren hesitated before giving in and reaching for the glass. He pressed the edge to his lips, pausing at the sting of its scent, but tilted it to take a hearty mouthful. Levi did not anticipate his reaction, and he recoiled as Eren gagged and spit the drink all over himself. “What is that?!” Tears were welling in his eyes. 

“Have you never tasted rum?”

Levi averted his gaze from the obviously embarrassed young man when a stare into the middle distance was his only response. 

“You really are a kid. Here,” he said as he passed over the plate of his untouched breakfast. With brows creased and cheeks flushed, Eren poked at the food with a finger, running his tongue over cracked lips. The captain noted how desperately he needed lessons in table etiquette. 

“I’m not a kid.” 

Levi had turned to grab the accompanying silverware for his companion so he wouldn’t have to use his hands, but he was prevented from giving them to Eren by shock at the scene before him: chewed food overflowing from a mouth busy gnawing on the meat strips. 

“No?” Levi took the block of cheese from Eren’s hands to replace it with a fork. “You certainly have the manners of one.” 

Eren merely grunted in response and ignored the utensil in favor of finishing his food. His time spent aboard Kitz’s ship surely had an impact on him. Nails dug into the cheese, his teeth clanked against the plate; his behavior was more reminiscent of a rabid animal than a person. Levi watched, aghast, and was surprised when the frenzy suddenly ended and the other shifted his gaze onto him. 

“I was concerned you’d notice the food is getting old,” Levi said, desperate to distract himself from becoming lost in Eren’s eyes. “We plan to dock in two weeks, so rations are running short.”

“Oh, I haven’t eaten this before, so I guess I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.” 

“...You’ve never eaten meat or cheese?” 

“Not like this.”

“Well, if you liked them, I’ll request extra with supper.” Levi left the bedside and headed for his dresser. He rifled through their contents, searching for an appropriate piece. “You’re larger than me, but not by much, so you can wear my clothes until we can get you your own at port. I don’t use the bed, so it’s yours—feel free to anything here while you recover.” 

“Thank you,” Eren responded, but his tone suggested something far from gratitude. _Fear? Contempt? Confusion?_ The captain was uncertain until he spoke again. “Why are you helping me?” 

The answer was far more complicated than Levi was willing to admit, especially to himself. _Guilt_ , maybe. _Attraction_ , most likely. He paused, straightening the folds of the outfit he’d laid out for Eren before turning. As he stared at the man on his bed, he felt there was something more. 

“I’m not certain,” he confessed. “But I chose to bring you aboard my ship, and I regret assuming I could do nothing more.” 

“I think you might be the kindest human I’ve ever met.”

“I doubt that, kid. We’re all pretty shit, eh?” 

“Oh, um, definitely.”

 _Something more_ for certain, Levi decided, when Eren’s lips curved upwards. His gaze strayed to where Eren’s hair fell across his brow and cast shadows on the edges of his smile.

“Your hair...” Levi began again, having found a pressing matter that he had to fix. “Are you happy with its length?” 

“It doesn’t usually bother me.” Eren twirled one of the loose strands at his forehead around a finger. “But it’s been getting in my face a lot, and I guess that makes it hard to see.” 

“I can tell.” Levi rummaged through another drawer and retrieved his shears. He’d kept himself neatly groomed for so long that a trim would be elementary, even if he’d never had to deal with this much hair before. He positioned Eren in a chair so he could begin. With the cutters in one hand, he threaded his other through the deep brown locks. There, he found that despite the obvious evidence of neglect and mistreatment, Eren’s fine hair showed signs that it would recover.

The work was done in a matter of minutes. Such a simple thing brought so much life back to the man, made him seem so much more whole. _Human_ . That was the word Hanji had used _._ When Eren thanked him, examining his new appearance in the looking glass, Levi insisted that he had been happy to help—though he knew his actions were innately selfish. 

He wanted a full view of those eyes. 

  
  
  
  
  



	3. Treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really excited about this week’s update! We’ll be meeting more characters amongst… other things :,) 
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos on previous chapters, they mean so much to me T^T<3 I recently made an ereri blog because I can’t get enough of these two, so if you’d like to connect you can find me on tumblr as chibi-eren :,D
> 
> Lots of love to my beta readers and to @sidereality for editing the heck out of this with me! (And for keeping me entertained with dirty pirate jokes along the way). 
> 
> Enjoyyy!

“An honorable position,” the captain had assured Eren regarding his new duties aboard the ship. He’d spent the afternoon sweeping the floorboards and polishing them with wax, relieved when he’d been told the other swab preferred to work with a mop and water. The job was simple enough, but, as a member of the crew kicked through his neatly swept dust pile, he concluded that it really wasn’t honorable at all. 

“Hey, watch it!” Eren may have been through hell, but he hadn’t lost his temper. 

“Heh, sorry swab!” The lanky crewman turned back to Eren with a grin that revealed his words were far from sincere. A beaded piercing hung low from his earlobe and bounced against his chin as he laughed mockingly. 

Eren dropped the broom, his knuckles paling as he tightened his hands into fists. He made for his opponent, ready to swing at that annoying face, maybe yank that earring off, but a tall freckled boy stepped in his way.

“Whoa! Hey, I’m sorry about him,” he started, placing his hands in front of Eren placatingly. “Jean acts like a jerk sometimes, but he doesn’t mean any real harm.”

“Speak for yourself, Marco.” Jean rolled his eyes at the pair and disappeared across the deck. 

“You’re friends with that guy?” 

“Something like that.” Marco’s smile grew wide, and a deep flush painted his cheeks. “It’s Eren, right? I would’ve introduced myself sooner, but this is the first time I’ve seen you on deck.”

It was the first day Hanji had discharged him from her treatment, so it was the first time _anyone_ was seeing him on deck—the morning Levi had carried him to the keep didn’t count since he’d been too timid to show anyone his face then. 

Two weeks had passed quickly. The energetic brunette visited often, along with Petra, and they’d worked tirelessly to help him strengthen his atrophied legs. He was grateful for their help—especially Petra’s. She had a way of tranquilizing the effects of Hanji’s excitement, the strength of which had first made the wild quartermaster seem terrifying. 

“What’s your favorite food, Eren? How’d your legs get those scars, Eren? Why were you on that ship, Eren?! Where are you from, Eren?! Do you know how to swim, EREN?!” had been but a few of her questions when they were formally introduced. 

“Leave him alone, Hanji,” Levi had scolded from where he worked at the table. “You’re supposed to be healing him, not making him want to jump overboard.” 

“I’m just curious!” 

Eren was grateful for the captain, too, who hunched over his work into the late hours each night. He had watched him mulling over dozens of parchment pieces from where he lay beneath the quilts. He wondered if Levi would forgo those papers and rest in the bed if it wasn’t occupied.

“Jean, stop!” 

Cries from the ship’s bow snapped Eren out of his thoughts. He took off towards the front of the deck with Marco following closely behind, muttering “what now?” under his breath. The sound of Jean howling with laughter grew louder as they approached, and Eren was only more determined to get in that swing. 

“Oh c’mon, we’re just having some fun!”

Jean held a mop that dripped above his head, laughing in the blond swab’s face as he leapt for it. “Give it back!” He begged, but he slipped on the wet boards and crashed to the floor. A crowd had begun to form around the scene, and Eren pushed through it to get closer.

“Wait!”

He ignored Marco’s plea, shaking off the hand that tried to catch his elbow, and lunged toward Jean’s face. Pride welled within him when his fist struck the other’s jaw, but victory was short lived. Though the blow landed, Jean defended himself with ease, grabbing hold of Eren’s arm and pulling until he fell to the floor. He struggled futilely to yank his arm back, the stinging pain of his knees hitting the deck only fueled his rage. All he wanted was to take Jean down, but his brawling ability was clearly inferior to the other’s. 

“That was a nice try, swab.” Jean sneered. “But I’m no stranger to battle.”

Suddenly, a darting shadow dropped from the short sail above. Eren could only make out a silhouette against the sunlight as they caught Jean’s body and sent him down with a thud. But Jean didn’t release his grip on Eren’s arm as he fell, and the two of them crashed into the other swab. They lay over one another in a pile of twisted limbs, each desperate to get space between himself and the others. The bastard’s fist shoved into his nose, and Eren returned the favor with a kick to his stomach, hoping he wasn’t inadvertently causing his fellow swab any harm in the process. 

Though Eren felt more like himself having finally fought again, he was now even more infuriated than before at being bested by what seemed to be the ship’s resident bully. He rubbed at his throbbing face and then froze as the figure drew their sword.

“Are you _‘teasing’_ him again, Jean?” The bright blade flashed in the sun, tipped under Jean’s chin. Eren’s stomach sank when he looked up at her, when he _recognized_ her so tall above him, her waist wrapped in a tattered red scarf. An involuntary gasp escaped Eren when she shifted her sword to him. “And you, stranger—” 

But he wasn’t a stranger to her at all. 

“Mikasa!” The rest of the crew was naive to their reunion. Jean widened his eyes in mock innocence, focused only on the owner of the blade. “You know Armin and me, we’re good pals, I was just showing him a new way to scrub the floors!”

Eren turned to the other swab and found that he was gawking at him, too. _Armin and Mikasa_. Their bodies had grown and their faces had aged, but there was no doubt in Eren’s mind that these were the friends he had known as a child. He had left their island many years before, abandoned its intriguing village and shallow harbor, yet here they were with him _now_.

His eyes darted around, searching for an escape from the awkward situation as Armin began to mumble scattered words beneath his breath. The gathered crew seemed perplexed, and Eren tried to find a route past them. If he got that far, he could simply throw himself from the side of the ship. It would all be over then—he wouldn’t have to worry about his ‘honor’ as a swab or what information his old friends could expose about him. He was ready to try, tensing his legs to go, but an unlikely savior stepped in before he could act on his (admittedly poorly thought out) plan. 

“YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO BREAK HIM AFTER I JUST FIXED HIM!” 

Hanji demanded everyone’s attention, barking orders and driving her way through the crowd. Intent on getting to her patient, she paid little notice to where she was stepping and tripped over Armin’s bucket of suds, hurling it towards the group huddled on the floor. Eren sprung into action as soapy water rained over them.

He made for the back of the deck, fleeing towards the safety of the captain’s quarters. Preoccupied by the droplets seeping through his shirt, he didn’t see said captain emerging from the room until their bodies collided in its doorway. He lost control of his legs, feeling the balance he’d worked so hard to gain retreating, and he crashed to the floor yet again—unfortunately, this time on top of Levi. 

“You shitty brat!” Levi threw the other off of him and brushed nonexistent dust from the gleaming epaulettes on his shoulders as he stood. 

Eren didn’t spare him any more attention, tearing the damp shirt from his body and launching it across the room once he’d crawled over the threshold. 

“What in the seven seas,” Levi declared, re-entering his keep as the shirt splat against the wall. He took in the sight of Eren as he locked the doors: hair disheveled, chest now bare, and crimson dripping from his nose onto his lips. “You’ve been out there for one day, and this is how you come back to me?” 

“I’m sorry, Captain, but Jean started it.” 

Eren’s breath came sharp as he leaned against the bed frame, heaving out a deep exhale. He’d escaped, _for now_ , but he knew that the pair outside could jeopardize all of that. He willed them to forget what had just happened, to forget about him entirely. 

“Quit whining and stand back up.” 

He followed the order while Levi turned to rummage through one of his drawers. Eren’s heartbeat still hadn’t slowed. He blamed it on his nerves and adrenaline from the fight, but when the captain approached he felt it accelerate even more. Levi stood close enough that Eren could make out the scent of his hair. Smoky, it made him think of the smoldering candles from when he woke in the night to find the captain still at work; the following traces of sea salt reminded him of breathing in fresh ocean air for the first time. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, wanting to take the familiar scent in, but instead he felt a cloth press hard against his nose. 

“Here,” Levi said. “Hold it firm to stop the bleeding.” 

Then he turned to the table where Eren now noticed a collection of garments. The extravagant items were far different from the captain’s typical attire: an ashen coat, dark trousers, a velvet sash, and polished boots. Eren noted the absence of a shirt and wondered what occasion would warrant him to dress in such a manner.

“I gathered these for you,” Levi began, and Eren felt his cheeks heat at discovering that _he_ would be the one to dress like that. “We’re docking on shore tomorrow, so I need you to look the part.” 

“The part?” 

Levi laughed, though the sound was hushed as quickly as it had come.

“Of a pirate, of course.” 

Piracy was a dream Eren had long forgotten. He remembered resting atop tide pools when he was young, watching ships disappear and reappear over the horizon. He’d fantasized many times about the adventures he’d have if he snuck away from home and boarded a ship, imagined what it would be like on top of the seas. His mother had warned him not to try it. 

It would have been best if he’d listened.

“There are these as well.” Levi lifted the cover of a small chest, leather bound and embellished with glossy iron, opening it to reveal dozens of jewels. “But I wanted you to choose which ones you’d like.” 

“These are incredible.” Eren crumpled the bloodied cloth and joined his companion. “What are they?” 

“Stones; some rare, most used.” He stroked the tops of the gems, cupped a handful, and presented them. “This one is a sapphire, those are rubies.” 

“Where’d you get them?” 

“Like I said,” he laughed again. “Most have been... used.”

Levi returned the jewels and continued picking through the chest. Eren admired as he removed additional pieces, each more stunning than the last. They reflected the light from the windows, glistening brightly, utterly entrancing him until one piece roused a memory he’d long silenced. 

“What are those?” 

“Pearls,” Levi said, and he pulled a string of them onto his wrist. “I have a few more sets, if you’d like to try them.”

“No, that’s alright.” Eren couldn’t fathom placing such a thing on his skin.

“Well, take your pick then, kid.” 

The jewelry lay thick over the table—a ‘few sets’ to Levi was obviously a fortune to others. Eren inspected each, trying to make a decision, but found himself too distracted by their various shapes and hues. He knew nothing of the riches of high society or what they deemed to be of considerable value.

“Captain, what kind is _your_ favorite?” He asked when he was unable to find his own answer. 

“My what?” 

“Your favorite stones.” 

“That’s easy,” he said. A smile flickered at the edges of his lips as he selected a large ring, slipping it onto his finger. “Emeralds.” 

The ring’s silver plating was dull when compared to the stone embedded in it. Eren gazed at it, mesmerized, the color reminding him of forests of weeds and the new buds that would eventually grow as long and dark as their brethren. Verdant hues danced with the light as Levi tilted it back and forth. 

“It’s beautiful,” Eren breathed, awed. 

“Yes,” Levi agreed. “But this piece isn’t the best.”

“It’s not?” He was taken by surprise, genuinely convinced that this stone and its colors were magnificent enough to be the man’s greatest prize. He looked back at the table, trying to decide which one was considered better. “Then which is?”

Levi glared at him, and Eren felt his eyes as he’d never felt another’s before. What was he to do with them staring at him? Grey, fearless, unwavering. He realized how much they resembled the gem of a ring on the table; dark in the center, bright specks dancing in the light as he looked closer. It was then that he realized he was staring back.

Eren shifted suddenly, gulping down the lump that had formed in his throat, and reached for the silver ring. The stone winked as he picked it up, and he thought of Levi’s eyes, crinkled and unguarded in the rare moments he laughed.

“Some treasure is too precious to claim, Eren. If you’re a pirate, it’s best to know that.” 

  
  


He pulled on the ornate garments as morning light filtered through the windows, adorning himself with jewels Levi had assured ‘suited him nicely’—whatever that meant—and taking extra care to make sure his ring was centered on his finger. The man in the looking glass was barely familiar; a decadent version of himself, he supposed, one that had only ever existed in his fantasies. The reflection shifted as the keep’s doors opened and the captain charged inside. 

“Are you dressed yet?” Levi asked in a growl. “We’ve been docked for thirty minutes.” 

Eren had barely opened his mouth to answer when the captain grumbled again. 

“Really?” He plucked the ribbon of fabric from his companion’s neck and thrust it upward into his face. “That is _not_ how you wear a sash!” 

Levi’s hands slid down Eren’s chest until they reached the band of his trousers, furiously tying the sash into a knot at his hip. Eren’s face grew warm watching him work—the captain’s touch was gentle where he brushed against bare skin, but the intentness of it almost burned. He willed his speeding heartbeat to go unnoticed. 

“There,” Levi announced once he was satisfied by his efforts. He clapped Eren’s shoulder and pushed him toward the exit. 

Most of the crew had abandoned ship already, desperate to make their way back onto land. Five remained, however, and one stood directly in front of the keep. Her arms were crossed over an indigo coat covered in patches, and she grimaced when he finally approached. 

“Eren I have been waiting for you,” she condemned, all in one breath, just before she leapt onto him. “WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG?!” 

He stammered, struggling to keep his legs firm, and failed to provide a complete response. 

“Cut the crap, Hanji. The kid just wants to look his best for Tortuga.” 

“Oh ho ho ho, Levi…” Hanji’s attention shifted to the shorter man when he joined them. She jerked the two of them closer and locked an arm over each of their necks. “And doesn’t he look _ravishing_!” 

Her words unleashed something within the captain, something both sheepish and deadly. He sent his heel into her toe in response, which made Hanji jump in shock and release the two of them. Then he grabbed her and flipped her over his shoulder. Her body thudded onto the floor and Eren expected to hear cries or curses, but Hanji just laughed maniacally, clutching her stomach as she rolled around. Levi ignored her and made for the remainder of the crew, but as he did, Eren was certain he could see a flush cover his face. 

Did he really look _ravishing_? 

“The three of you,” Levi addressed the men in his party, pulling a suede pouch from his coat and tossing it in their direction. Olou lunged for it eagerly but, in his efforts, struck it to the floor where it burst open and sent bronze coins scattering. The others groaned before their captain resumed, “Clean up this mess, then acquire provisions for the voyage.”

“Yessir.” 

“And remember my personal list, Gunther.” 

“‘Course Cap’n.”

“You two.” Levi turned back to Hanji who, despite Petra’s attempts to calm her hysterics, was still cackling on the floor. He nodded to his sailing master and tossed her a second pouch. “Gather what’s needed for tonight.” 

“Understood, sir.” 

“And you, brat.” Eren’s pulse tripped as the captain turned, silver gaze locking onto him. “You’re with me.” 

  
  


They followed a dirt track from the beach into town—which was really more of a city, Eren decided. He’d never seen so many people crammed into one place: weary individuals hunted down their errant children, shopkeepers promoted their merchandise to the those on the streets, people balanced overflowing baskets of said merchandise on top of their heads, and those who weren’t preoccupied otherwise picked fights to flaunt their weapons. The crowds were thick when they first entered the streets, numerous structures infringing on the walking space. Eren trailed closely behind his guide out of fear of being bumped or harassed by one of the strangers. The captain carried on forward, however, ready to challenge anyone who might step in their way, and in time the hordes learned to keep their distance and split around them. 

A smell both sweet and horrific wafted through the humid air, leading Eren to a cramped stall bordering the walkway. Alluring juices popped from a skillet where bodies lay dismembered and skewers ran through tails. A pit grew large in his stomach, and he willed himself not to hurl. 

“Are you hungry?” Levi nudged Eren’s arm. “Grilled fish gets shittier farther inland, so we can get some now if you want.”

“No!” He shrieked and tugged his hair in alarm at the suggestion.

Passersby went silent after witnessing Eren’s outburst. He tried to ignore their stares, but his chest grew heavy when he realized the captain was also staring, equally baffled.

“Alright then? If you don’t want anything here, then let’s keep moving.” 

“Where are we going, anyway?” Eren stumbled over his feet to follow. 

“I have business to take care of.” 

“Business?” 

“Yes, business.” His tone ordered Eren to drop the topic. 

Whatever _business_ it was, it made him uneasy as they approached a dark, less populated alleyway. Ruffians loitered at its edges where worn buildings formed tight borders. The bricks were soaked beneath his feet, and Eren was grateful for the polished boots the captain had given him. He kept his eyes on the ground, splashing through the puddles cautiously, so he didn’t see the woman until she was right in front of him. 

“Hey there, boy,” she purred, draping herself onto his chest. Her pale curls bounced against his chin. “Have you got any money?” 

Eren flushed as the ruffles of her bodice scratched at his bare skin. He stammered, unsure of what he was even trying to say. 

“I have a pouch for you as well,” Levi informed him, pulling said money from his coat pocket. “If you wish to use it.” 

He handled the tossed coins with even less grace than Olou had, and heads turned at the loud jingle. The woman gasped, eyes growing wide, maneuvering the two of them so her skirt covered most of the glittering coins. He kept stammering, hands fluttering awkwardly as he tried to push the woman away without putting them anywhere inappropriate, all while the captain turned and strode farther down the alley. 

“Keep it!” Eren yelped, disentangling himself as he galloped in pursuit of the man. He joined the captain’s side instead of keeping a step behind him as he had before. 

“That was generous.” The amusement dripping from his tone was the most Eren had heard from him in their time together. 

“Why did you do that?!” 

“You’re blushing,” Levi teased, looking slyly at his companion. A smile pulled his lips. 

“I am _not_.” 

“Alright.” He smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

Eren was ready to fight, to assert that he was, in fact, _not blushing_. But before he could, they slowed in front of a large, beaten door. 

“This is it,” Levi said. “Best behavior, kid.” 

He wanted to fight that nickname, too; it wasn’t his fault he didn’t understand anything about pirates or their lifestyle. Instead, a gasp escaped him as the captain took his arm and linked it with his own. Any argument Eren had formed faltered at Levi’s touch, but he stopped being so conscious of the sensation as the captain led them into the tavern.

There were dozens of drunken sailors in the dimly lit room; some howled, some sang, others lurked in the corners and waited for more booze. Eren leaned into his companion, the uproar of the scene enough to unsteady him. 

_This was it_ , he thought. _Humanity at its finest_. 

He remained close to Levi as they moved through the rowdy throng. Nothing could sway him, apparently. The patrons of the establishment split as effortlessly around them as the ordinary townsfolk had on the city streets, nudging each other as they noticed them.

Levi was a threat to the others, and Eren was grateful for that. 

The ruckus had dwindled by the time the pair approached the room’s counter. A woman, who had been entertaining one of the tavern’s patrons from where she sat atop the surface, paled when they stopped before her. “How can I help you?” Her voice was unsteady, quiet even in the otherwise silent atmosphere. 

“ _Ackerman_.” 

Levi had whispered his response, but Eren had been able to make out the word.

“Welcome back, sir.” She nodded and hopped down from the bar. “Right this way.” 

She guided them through a series of quiet hallways, a stark contrast to the loudness of the tavern outside. Bright, lavish rugs carpeted the floor, and the signs of extravagance only grew more frequent with each step. After moving through what Eren felt was a labyrinth, she stopped abruptly at a red door with the silver crest of a crown nailed at its center.

“He has guests at the moment,” the woman said, her eyes shifting between the door and her company. “So if you would please wait here....” 

“Screw that.” 

Levi unlinked his arm from Eren’s, shoving the door and stepping through (all the while ignoring their escort’s requests). The inhabitants, seated around a table in the center of the room, all looked up in surprise, save for one man.

“Ha!” The man bellowed, utterly unfazed by the interruption even as his companions jumped. He kicked back his chair. “Look who it is! Come to visit your dear old uncle, Levi?” 

It was the most _human_ man he had ever seen. Eren’s instincts cried for him to run, to sprint in the opposite direction despite his shaky legs, to escape somewhere— _anywhere—_ far from the room painted in red. 

But the captain stepped forward.

“Hello, Kenny.” 


	4. The Melody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, we’ve made it to one of my favorite chapters (so far) :,D 
> 
> Thank you sooo much for your comments and kudos, they make my nervous writer heart really happy :,) <3 
> 
> If you guys want to connect, my ereri blog is chibi-eren on tumblr ^,^ This also wouldn’t be a proper update without thanking my betas and @sidereality for their edits! Sharing this story has been a lot of fun so far, and I’m excited for where we’re heading ;) 
> 
> Enjoy!!

“That’s _‘Kenny the Ripper’_ to you, runt.” The foul man reminded his nephew as a petrifying grin formed on his lips. “Don’t go undermining my reputation.”

Eren’s breath caught in his lungs, and he gaped as the man stepped towards the door—toward _him_ , unable to move, even as every atom of his being screamed at him to run. 

A hat embellished with strings of teeth swung against Kenny’s face with each step. At first glance, the teeth appeared human, but the fangs interspersed among molars revealed otherwise. Similarly, as he drew closer, the scars ravaging his battered face also revealed themselves to be out of the mundane; inky lines in their centers were the purest evidence that the man had battled—and seemingly killed—countless mer. 

Eren begged his legs, traitorous at the worst of times, to work. He tried not to focus on how much the man’s walking stick resembled cracked bone as it thudded closer. 

The captain remained unstirred, even in the presence of this monster. 

“Your reputation _is_ what’s at risk!” shrieked the round man Kenny had abandoned in the room’s center. His hollowed eyes darted all over, unable to still on the intruders.

“Rod, have I ever told you about my three little stowaways?” Kenny chuckled and turned, walking back to Rod and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Caught 'em stealin’ passage from France back when I was a merchant, what was it… ten? Maybe twelve years ago, Levi?” 

“Twelve,” Levi confirmed, fingers grazing the handles of his swords. “To be exact.” 

“I’m not interested in hearing your make-believe, delusional adventure stories anymore!” Rod wailed, springing up from his seat. “Frieda, we’re leaving!” 

The woman in question leaned against the adjacent wall, having gotten up to keep an eye on the intruders after their surprise entrance. Lantern light reflected off the gold lining of her pressed navy coat, nearly blinding Eren when she passed by. Her eyes flickered his way for only a second, but the experience left him even more disoriented. 

Eren tried to shake off this short exchange, but he felt himself falling further into panic as each moment passed. The door slammed with Rod and Frieda’s departure, and his legs finally faltered, giving way beneath him. Hands trembling, he floundered desperately at the nearest wall for support. Red paint cloaked his vision, the vivid shade of the color overwhelming him. Shoving his cheek against the cool surface, Eren frantically gulped down ragged breaths of air. 

Up close, he could see that the paint on the wall had a scattered array of faded markings, just like the ones that covered his body from knives wielded by captors, and the cracks in the pigment reminded him of the scrapes on his hands, curled tight around a tiny white pearl. 

He thought of his mother: her scolding tone after he’d split an oyster open, her disapproving eyes when he’d found the treasure inside. If he had listened to her then—or even just once in his life—he wouldn’t have grown into the fool who’d just walked into a ripper’s trap. 

“What’s wrong with _him_?” 

The question reached Eren, but an answer was not forthcoming. One palm remained fixed against the wall while the other ran through his hair anxiously—he was choking on the air burning in his throat, panic surging over his skin as he realized that the ripper had noticed him.

“Hey, kid.”

A touch soothed the hand tugging frantically at tufts of hair, but Eren wasn’t jostled by the unexpected connection. The touch was familiar. Unthreatening. Slowly, his erratic breaths grew more measured, and he felt himself slowly return to his senses. Levi gently loosened Eren’s hand from his strangled hair—but even after doing so, he didn’t relinquish his grip. The clasp of their hands anchored him, and Eren pushed away from the wall, legs bolstered by the captain’s steady gaze.

“Well now, Levi!” Kenny’s arms waved wildly, thrusting his horrific cane closer than Eren would like, cackling with laughter. “Who’s your _friend_?”

“A new member of my crew,” was all Levi replied, and he swiftly withdrew from said new crew member’s grasp. The terseness of this description stung Eren, but the loss of Levi’s touch stung more. 

“Too bad.” Kenny raised a brow dubiously as he stumbled back to the center of the room. “Then come sit down, there’s plenty for him to explore in here.”

The rows of glass cases lining the edges of the room _did_ pique his curiosity, but Eren wasn’t convinced that he was safe in the presence of this man. How could he be? He’d seen the strings of teeth the man wore so casually, and the vicious looking weapons displayed on the walls were yet another strong indication that he wasn’t trustworthy. 

“Just look around for a bit.” Levi told him, catching his attention with a tug of his coat sleeve. “I won’t be long.”

He wouldn’t trust Kenny. He wouldn’t trust _any_ human that was anything like that monstrous man. But—he tried to rationalize as the captain took his hand again, thumb gently brushing over his knuckles—Levi wasn’t like that at all. After a tight squeeze of his fingers, he stepped away from Eren. 

Kenny had claimed to be Levi’s uncle, but he couldn’t fathom that there was truly such a connection between the two men. A ripper and his captain… it was impossible. But for the moment, he pushed the doubt from his mind in order to investigate the items housed within the room.

Some of the cases held jewels, like the ones Levi had lent him for today, while others housed artifacts Eren didn’t recognize. Now no longer blinded by fear, he noticed canvases hanging on the red walls. There were depictions of ship battles, empty beaches, and a few even seemed to be detailed portraits of a much younger Kenny. The illustrations showed the same hat he still wore—though with less dangling teeth—and fewer scars cut deep into his skin.

One piece of art in particular caught Eren’s eye, and he leaned in close to squint at the picture. Its scenery was unlike anything he’d seen off the coastline, bright vegetation covering the landscape. Kenny stood tall in the center with a wide grin on his face, his hands clasping the shoulders of two younger people to each side of him, chin just above a third’s head—this shorter man had his arms crossed but, despite his posture, a mischievous smile pulled at his lips. Eren’s pulse tripped in recognition, but he debated if the figure could truly be the captain. Perhaps the artist had taken creative liberty and altered his expression; it was one he’d never seen from the man. 

He hadn’t met the others painted on the canvas. They each held onto one of Levi’s shoulders, bringing the entire group close, and wore smiles even wider than Kenny’s. They all seemed so happy (even with the grotesque man amidst them). If not with Levi on his ship, Eren wondered where the other two were now. Kenny had mentioned something about his nephew’s past just before his haze of panic, and he mulled over the conversation in an attempt to remember what it was. 

_France._

That’s where Levi’s uncle had said he was from. 

Eren wondered if it was far away. 

\- - -

His companion distracted, Levi followed Kenny as he stumbled back towards his lounge. The seating area was located in the center of the room, and though it failed to offer the privacy Levi desired for the conversation, it would have to do. After claiming the seat adjacent to Kenny’s, he eyed Eren. ‘Distracted’ was an understatement, he now realized, as the other’s face pressed close to a canvas. He was an odd one, Levi thought fondly, chuckling as he gazed at him. 

Kenny hacked uncontrollably, mucus and tobacco poison in his lungs, every last remnant of peace that had existed disappearing instantly. Wheezing with each breath, he vigorously pounded a fist against his chest to clear it, and Levi, equally desperate in a different way, tried to hide his disdain. 

“Want some?” Kenny managed through a raspy throat when his coughing ceased, gesturing to the kettle on the side table. The offer was invalid, however, as the old man had already poured a cup. He stirred its contents, crushed leaves soaking in hot water, then pushed it across to Levi. 

“Thank you.” Raising the cup to his lips, Levi inhaled the sweet smelling steam rising off the liquid and took a hearty swallow. How much time had passed since he had been on land long enough to enjoy a fresh cup of tea? 

“Damn, runt!” Kenny exclaimed, striking his knee with a hand as he let out another cackle. “Don’t hold yourself back!”

He allowed himself to share in the old man’s laughter. 

“Those people who were here before...” Levi started, hands still molded to the warm curve of the tea cup. “When did you start working for the Royal Navy?” 

“Working for the _what_?!” Kenny choked and spat out a mouthful of his tea, sending him into another turbulent fit of coughs. He muffled them in his sleeve, leaving a dark stain on the maroon coat, until his body finally relaxed. “I don’t work _for_ anybody!”

“Well, what did they want then?” 

“Ack, something about a governor’s kidnapped daughter,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I keep telling visitors I’m retired, but they won’t let me die in peace.” 

“You don’t _want_ to die in peace, Kenny.” Levi hadn’t only _heard_ the tales of Kenny the Ripper, notorious for his ruthlessness on the seas, he’d _lived_ enough of them to know the excuse was a lie. “The girl should be the military’s responsibility, why’d they come to you?” 

“It’s of a sensitive nature and _confidential_ , Levi, I’m sure you understand.” 

He did, of course. 

“Y’know,” Kenny said, changing the subject and refilling their drinks. “If your friend bores quick, I can ask some of the girls if they’re interested in a client.” 

“He’s not my ‘friend.’ And that won’t be necessary.” 

“Ah, so he’s not your _friend_ , yet you know he’s not interested? Who is he then?”

“I already told you,” Levi groaned and flicked a finger against his temple. “He’s a new member of my crew.” 

“Well! Just because _you're_ not interested doesn’t mean your sea dogs aren't!” 

“They’re not.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Correct.” 

“So you’re fucking him.” 

It was now Levi who choked on his drink. 

“Alright,” Kenny resumed, after recovering from the inevitable round of laughter and coughs brought on by his nephew’s suffering. “You’re obviously not interested in my business ventures, so what do you want?” 

Levi bought a moment of time as he wiped the dripping tea from his chin with his cravat. He cleared his throat before beginning again, this time in a whisper. “There are few rippers as skilled as you, Kenny, and even fewer as knowledgeable on the mer.” 

“And?” The old man crossed his arms and kicked one leg over his other. His foot tapped the air while he waited for an explanation. “What about it?” 

“I’m seeking advice.” 

“Hmmph, well, I’ve got loads of that. Whether it’s good or not depends on how well you listen.” 

“I’m listening, old man.” He leaned close to his uncle, glancing to ensure Eren was out of hearing range. “What do you know about the curse of the mer?” 

The slits of Kenny’s eyes went wide. He looked to Levi sternly, formerly hidden wrinkles becoming apparent on his forehead, and said with a sudden solemness, “you don’t mess with that.” 

Levi reached into his dark coat, past his vest, and into a hidden pocket from which he retrieved the golden map. Even inert, outside of water, the parchment glimmered in his hand, and the ripper’s face flushed with realization. 

“I already have.”

“You cheeky piece of shit.” Kenny’s palm covered his mouth, shock having momentarily taken the place of his ailment. “Where?” 

“We’ll see. It leads to a nest—that’s what the advice is for.” 

“A _nest_.” 

“Yes, a nest.” 

“But that’s how—” 

“I’m aware,” he interrupted, stopping the flow of thoughts before they could flood his mind. 

They remained silent, neither willing to acknowledge what they were both thinking about. Levi passed him the scroll instead, and Kenny unfurled its corners with reverent fingers, wiping the tears from bloodshot eyes on his sleeve. An entire lifetime had passed him in a futile search of the map, yet now his successor claimed it for himself. 

“That’s authentic, alright,” he exclaimed, examining every inch of the parchment. “But the treasure, that’s another story. Legends say it was the Sea King’s power, control over the seas and everything in it… before his soul split in two.”

“His _soul_?”

“Supposedly all of us got one, or something like it, runt.” 

“But wouldn’t the Sea King be a mer?” 

“ _If_ he was real.” Kenny sighed as he handed the map back to Levi. “Y’know, I was surprised to hear you interested in your mad uncle’s poaching. Most folks just pay up to forget about the monsters—but that power… guess I know why you’re after it, huh?”

Levi didn’t answer. 

“Alright then,” Kenny went on. “About this nest, you’re gonna sail in there to steal the key, then you’ll sail out just fine. Is that it?” 

Silence. 

“And do you know what you’ve gotta do to the mer after that? How do you even expect to catch one?” 

The noise of dozens of things falling came from the far side of the room, interrupting the one-sided conversation. Dozens of artifacts lay haphazardly on the carpets surrounding Eren, who held a thin cutlass in his grasp. His face paled when they shifted their attention to him and, having exposed his crime, Levi thundered: 

“I told you _best behavior_ , brat— _”_

“Hahhh, Levi, let him be. He’s your _friend_ after all!” Kenny caught his arm before he could rush forward, but distance didn’t prevent him from sending the blundering man his cruelest scowl. 

“Let’s say you keep that one,” the old man continued. “Then you can watch out for my nephew here whenever he gets himself into trouble.” 

“Really?” Eren paled even further when Levi’s head tilted at his response, knuckles white on the handle of the cutlass. When he finally got the captain’s hint, he added a shaky, “sir?” 

“Please,” Kenny insisted, releasing Levi and clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Take it.” 

\- - -

The party had drawn most of the island to the beach, everyone clamoring around the open space where the _Sinna_ was docked. Hanji and Petra were responsible for it. They had spared no expense, emptying the entire pouch Levi had given them, and the crew now mingled with residents over fresh cuts of meat and large barrels of rum.

“It’s a recruitment party!” Hanji had exclaimed, overjoyed when Eren took the slightest interest. “Fill their bellies and we’ll get loads to sign up!” 

“Not if you scare them away again,” the captain had told her before he retreated to the ship. “Try not to burn the port down this time.” 

If he had intended to offend her, Hanji hadn’t noticed. Instead she trailed into a wild anecdote for anyone in the vicinity who was listening about how last time she had, in fact, burned down a port. Eren shook his head in mild amusement, walking away from the quartermaster. She certainly had her quirks, as did the others. 

This ‘recruitment party’ was his only chance. With the crew distracted, hundreds present, and the cover of night, anything was possible—even an unexplained disappearance. 

Eren moved through the crowds looking for his crewmates. He eyed the strangers’ faces, hoping to find anyone who was familiar. Why, exactly, he wasn’t sure. Gratitude, guilt— _something_ compelled him to say goodbye. 

But not to _them_. 

He froze when he found the pair. The blond swab sat atop a barrel, his defender by his side, and he tugged at her skirt when his eyes met Eren’s, pointing him out with a nod of his chin. Mikasa launched forward. 

Eren ducked back into the crowd, weaving around sweaty bodies dancing to the tune of loud instruments. He tried to ignore thoughts of his pursuer as they approached a large bonfire, but she grabbed hold of his coat tail and yanked him back hard. He pushed off from the ground to meet her, holding out an arm to keep her a safe distance away. 

“You’re a fast runner.” Mikasa’s words were not intended as a compliment. “I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“What do you want?” Eren crossed his arms and scowled. He knew it was a cruel move even before the hurt showed in her eyes, and his chest burned as she blinked tears away. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to see her in pain, _especially_ when he was the cause of it. There were no other options, though, so he convinced himself that his behavior was for the best.

“You’ve been avoiding us,” she said, and Eren tried to ignore the aches sent through his chest by her splintered tone.

Armin finally located them, squeezing past an erratic pair of dancers and tripping into Mikasa. His mouth opened, prompting Eren to continue before he lost his nerve. “You both… you need to forget about me.” 

“Can’t we talk?” Armin asked. “It’s been so long, Eren. Please—” 

“WELL LOOK AT YOU THREE!” 

Eren was relieved at the interruption, even if it was at the cost of their quartermaster looping an arm around his neck and squeezing in her typical affectionate exuberance. “Are you making friends, Eren? I’m so proud of you!” 

She was intoxicated, as most people on the beach were, her grip weaker than it’d been when she’d captured him that morning. He thought of the captain, how he’d flung her away with such ease, and stomped on Hanji’s toe to free himself. Her reaction was the same, hands flying off him and reaching for her foot as she hopped on one leg in pain, so he turned to disappear back into the crowd. 

“Eren, wait!” 

He drowned out Armin’s pleas, pushing them to the back of his mind, and ran from the flames dancing on the sand, past where the ship met the dock. He only slowed his pace when the ruckus had turned to a faint hum behind him, and he was on a patch of beach lit only by moonlight. Large rocks jutted from the sand near where it met the water. They reminded him of the tide pools of his youth, so he found a seat on top of one.

Eren tried not to think of the pair he’d abandoned. (Again.) He tried not to think about any of them—those from his past or the pirates from the ship. Instead he gazed at the horizon, where a dark sky melted into gentle waves that reflected the moon and stars.

How easy it would be for him to escape, to leave the beach, the _Sinna_ , and all those aboard it. His instincts told him to go as he stared at the swells of rising waves in the distance, but something else still willed him to stay. 

The jeweled ring caught against a snarl as he ran a hand through his hair. He admired the stone—it truly was stunning—dark and light caught in an eternal dance within the facets. Stunning, yet simple to leave atop the coarse rock when he leapt forward. It was unfortunate that he’d failed to say goodbye.

He reached to pull it from his finger, but laughter interrupted him. Quickly, Eren hopped off the rock and ducked behind it, peeking out to see who was there. 

Stumbling along the shadows of trees that bordered the sand, hands draped over one another, they worked in unison to remain upright. The empty bottles they carried meant the feat was impossible. 

“I’m serious!” Marco whined, dropping his bottle as he grabbed Jean’s face between his hands. He pulled them both to a stop and stared gravely into the other’s eyes as he continued. “It was a whole potato! She didn’t even take a bite!” 

“Alright, I believe you!” Jean spoke in that same pompous tone that made Eren resent his existence. He was shocked, even now, that someone as friendly as Marco hung around him willingly. “Now drop it, unless you want to talk about potato-girl all night.”

“No,” Marco replied, wrapping his arms around the other’s neck to pull him close. “I don’t.” 

Eren remained by the rocks for a moment, plan thwarted, until he was sure the two men were thoroughly distracted and he could escape along the shore. He retraced the path he’d fled upon earlier, unsure of where his feet were taking him. They led him to the ladder latched against the _Sinna’s_ side. He shifted his gaze between the rungs and the gap of water between the ship and the dock. Then he climbed, almost in a daze, and made for the keep at the stern. 

On each of Eren’s nights in the keep, the captain had remained hunched over his desk, scanning papers and scribing notes upon them. He’d been utterly devoted to his work and immovable from his chair, still in the same place when morning came. Eren had been relying on that fact as an unchangeable constant, so he was surprised when he opened the doors and found a different scene entirely. 

A melody traveled from the room’s far corner—a part of the keep he’d never paid notice to before. It was unlike the celebratory music playing on the beach or the sea shanties Eren had heard the crew singing his first night aboard the ship. This tune was soft and sorrowful, and Levi, hands coaxing the sweet song from the piano, looked a far cry from the stoic, untouchable man he presented himself to be. 

He was free of most of his typical layers, the only thing on his top half a thin shirt that shifted across the expanse of his shoulders as he swayed with the music. Focused on his fingers gliding over the keys, he seemed undisturbed by the new presence. Eren admired the performance, still standing in the doorway, feeling his own song purr deep within his chest.

“How long are you going to stand there for?” Levi finally asked as the last notes faded away, though his eyes remained fixed on the piano. 

“I didn’t mean to—” Eren stumbled over his apology before simply giving up. “That was beautiful.” 

Levi said nothing, still staring forward, even when Eren closed the doors and approached. “What was that?” 

“An original,” the captain admitted, after a moment. 

“You wrote that?!” Eren was unable to conceal his awe at the man’s ability. All of the songs _he_ knew were gifted by others and passed down through generations long before his. To create something new, something entirely his own, had never been an option.

“ _Longue est la Nuit_.” The words were incomprehensible to Eren, and his bewildered expression prompted Levi to translate. “ _Long is the Night_ , that’s its name _._ ” 

“It really is beautiful.” 

“Yes, it is.” 

Silence recaptured them, the din of the party on the beach distant, and Eren yearned for Levi’s melody to return and fill the air once more. “I used to sing,” he mustered in an attempt to encourage the man. “A long time ago, my mother taught me.”

“That was nice of her…” 

Levi trembled, and it shocked Eren to see him in such a state. The captain was firm, strong, and... fearless. What reasons did he have to be afraid? 

Eren set his palm against the man’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe him. Levi jerked in response but, after a moment, his tremors stilled. Then his silver eyes came up to meet Eren’s. 

“What types of songs?” Any trace of what had possessed him moments before was no longer present. 

“Oh, they’re all really old.” Heat rushed over Eren. He hadn’t expected the captain to be interested further and tried not to share specifics. “Most don’t even have words.”

“Why don’t you sit down, kid.”

Levi pulled the other’s arm up, helping him unfasten Kenny’s gifted blade from his belts. Each of the captain’s moves was quick and purposeful, so he was confused when the man paused and stared at the cutlass now in his hands. Eren himself was unsure of where to store the new item, as it wasn’t as if he had many personal things. His eyes followed Levi’s over the top of his piano, where the captain’s own swords lay, and—though it seemed his tremors returned for a moment again—he rested it beside them. 

Eren sat on the bench where the captain had shifted aside to make room for him, and Levi’s fingers returned to the keys. Eren noticed his ring, the emerald’s hues dancing with the flickering flames of the candles, and thought of his own, relieved he hadn’t left it on the shore after all. Silver flecks glinted in the light when he glanced at it, secure on his finger; it reminded him of the other’s eyes, though of course the gem paled in comparison.

Levi began his song again, but as he played, the notes changed—evolved somehow—into something new. Something unhurried and melancholy still, but as Eren watched the man’s hands gliding over the instrument, he could only describe him as something else. 

_Resilient_. 

His eyes drifted up the other’s arms, across his bare neck and to his face where he was sure a smile, even if just a slight one, had taken shape. Eren raised the corners of his lips in return before he joined, though at first nervous and faint, in his own song. 

They remained as such: side by side before the piano, long after the crew returned and questioned the music traveling over the deck, until light from the windows signaled the approach of morning. Then they stumbled over one another, weary from their lengthy day, and crossed the distance of the room to the bed—a deep sleep taking over the both of them once they fell upon it.

\- - -

Hanji had demanded that no one was to disturb them while embarking, and she had fully intended to enforce the rule. But now she stood beside Petra and Olou at the quarterdeck, spyglass pointed in the direction of the ship pursuing them.

“Well?” 

“Did you see who it is?” 

She had, and she knew that it was time to wake the captain. 

“The _Rose_.”


	5. Thorns of the Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo happy update day! Things are about to get a bit angsty and I'm excited about it ;)
> 
> Just a heads up, the next two chapters have a content warning for blood, so… there’s that
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! I’ve really loved working on this story and it makes me so happy that you guys like it ;-; <3
> 
> The usual stuff:  
> My Ereri blog is chibi-eren.tumblr.com (lots of reblogged artwork and me crying)  
> My amazing beta/editor is sidereality! 
> 
> Enjoyyy... and see you next Sunday! :,D

Levi released a deep breath as he awoke, relishing in the feeling of an uncharacteristically relaxed body, muscles free of the tension he’d grown to believe was normal. He opened his eyes, blinking in the sunlight bathing the keep. He wasn’t accustomed to sleeping in his bed, especially after having offered it to Eren, so the comfort surprised him—as did the sensation of having a pair of arms wrapped around him, his head pillowed on the other’s chest, rising and falling with each slow breath. 

Shifting slightly, his hand brushed against the sash still tied at Eren’s hip. The knot was digging into his side, but he couldn’t do anything about it without waking his companion. He glared balefully at the wretched thing and focused instead on the faint marks striped across Eren’s bare skin. Looking at them now, they could hardly be distinguished as the deep chain wounds they had once been. _He’d healed quickly_ , Levi realized as he followed the pale scars up the man’s jaw, his chin, and to the opened mouth from which low snores escaped. 

Nerves churned in his stomach as his breath caught in his throat. Eren’s features, so often characterized by uncertainty or rage, were even more stunning as he slept. Relaxed and peaceful, free of whatever burdens he carried while awake. Levi twitched in annoyance at the fringe of hair that fell across Eren’s brow like a layer of dust that needed to be swept away to view the treasure beneath. He brushed it to one side, marvelling at how soft the locks had become as he twirled a tress between his fingers. A low huff escaped Eren. His eyelids creased slightly as he regained consciousness, and then they opened and revealed the emeralds. 

Eren didn’t shy from his gaze but instead mirrored it, and the captain felt goosebumps rise on his skin when his name fell from the other’s lips, a breathless question. 

“Levi?”

Everything else faded away: all Levi could see was the green of Eren’s eyes—it made him think of the ocean, the fathomless depths of the deep sea swirling with the glitter of foam in the sun. Power, treasure, _nothing_ compared to the burning desire Levi suddenly felt raging within him for the other man. Even his quest to atone for his many sins fell away, every mote of _want_ in Levi’s body fused into one searing feeling that wiped out everything else. All he wanted was to claim those lips, to reach forward, take hold of Eren’s face and pull it to his own— 

The keep’s doors banged open, sending panic shooting through Levi as an intruder burst in. He sprung from the bed and, having not disentangled himself from the other’s long arms, sent Eren tumbling onto the floor. Tucking in his loose shirt and reaching for his cravat, which he belatedly realized he’d taken off last night, Levi made every attempt to seem as though he hadn’t just been caught in a vulnerable position. 

“Captain!” Petra cried. Levi relaxed slightly upon seeing that she, someone with the sense and decency not to comment on what she’d just seen of her captain, was the intruder, but that flicker of relief vanished as he took in her current state. Tear-swollen eyes looked over his messied room, and her thin eyebrows furrowed deeply in an uneasy expression. 

“I’m-I’m sorry to intrude,” she stuttered, fists clenching at her sides and eyes darting to the floor. “But a ship has been spotted. It’s the _Rose_ , sir. It’s _him_.” 

“Shit.” Levi swore and jumped into action, pulling fresh clothes from his dresser as Petra left as quickly as she’d arrived. She’d been right—wherever they went, the navy followed—and he cursed himself for ignoring her warning weeks before. 

_‘Traitors,’_ she had called them, but Levi knew his former commander’s motivations were not as trivial as that. 

\- - -

“Levi.” The call of his name rolled across the room like a stormfront, snapping him back to the present and to the dozens of military officers sitting in the room. He stiffened when he realized they were all looking at him, their expressions questioning and their eyes full of scorn. 

He didn’t belong here. The stiffness of the overly starched coat collar digging into his neck was an inescapable reminder of that. His jaw clenched as he scanned the conference table, finding nothing but disdain in the faces that stared back. He’d rehearsed his role in this conversation for weeks, ensuring he could deliver the appropriate lines to guarantee his pardon. But here he was, trembling as he failed to calm his surging thoughts, unable to force himself to speak.

Weeks had passed since that night, but he still felt himself sinking, being dragged into the dark.

The commander’s palm rested on his shoulder, an anchor keeping him from being washed away with what plagued his mind, even if only barely. At the large man’s nod Levi leaned back in his chair, ignoring the sting of his wounds against it as he drew in a deep breath. An anxiously roaming hand caught hold of the bandage wrapped around his head, an unexpected sensory reminder of recent events, and he quickly tucked it back into his lap, clenching both hands into tight fists. 

“Levi here,” the commander resumed, “will be a valuable asset to my plan. His experience is unrivaled even to that of our most senior officers; he will be essential in securing the safety of the seas.” 

“The idea is preposterous!” Someone scoffed, digging a fist into his temple in exasperation. “Criminals are to be _tried and executed_ —not drafted for the military.” 

“With all due respect, Nile,” the commander addressed the agitated man, stepping away from Levi to lean forward on the back of his own chair. “Conditions on open waters are different from those on land. The danger posed by the creatures is heightened there.” 

“Regardless,” a figure at the head of the table interjected, authoritative voice drawing the room’s attention with ease. Threading his fingers together, he leaned forward, the rows of medals pinned to his chest flashing. “He’s a pirate. How are we supposed to trust that his words are true?” 

“They _are_ true! I’ve heard of this before!” Another officer stood abruptly, his chair screeching as it was pushed back.

“Hush, Kitz!” Someone yanked the wild man down, though he continued muttering beneath his breath. 

A woman leaned forward expectantly, hands clasped beneath her chin, having stayed silent waiting for this moment. “If you won’t listen to a criminal, then listen to me!” Brown hair flounced as she shot upright, nose in the air, hand planted firmly on her hip while she adjusted her glasses. “This grouchy little guy has come face to face with more mer than all you old geezers combined! Execute him—sure, maybe he deserves it—but think about what he could do on our side!” 

The room went silent, though Levi wasn’t sure if it was because they were moved—or terrified—by her enthusiasm. “Thank you, Miss Zoe.” The decorated military officer spoke again, clearing his throat. “Now, this _proposition_ of yours… _If_ we consent to the terms, how will you proceed?” 

The commander reclaimed his seat between Levi and Zoe— _Hanji Zoe_ , he recalled — arm brushing against him when he sat. Levi was unable to pull his gaze away from the commander’s broad fingers as they drummed against the oak surface. He’d be indebted to the man if this plan succeeded. But, he reminded himself as the tapping continued like a quiet rumble of thunder, _he already was._

“We will locate the map.” 

\- - -

He lifted the cover of his trunk, ensuring that the golden parchment was still secure inside. Locking it, he turned back to the main area of the keep and found that Eren was still sitting on the floor by the bed: cheeks flushed, mouth agape, those blasted eyes staring up at him.

“Get dressed, brat.” Levi nearly gagged at how filthy the other’s clothes were, repulsed that he hadn’t noticed sooner that the dirt and grime had been _in his bed,_ and _on him._ What had the kid been doing before he returned to the ship? Playing in the sand? “Make it quick this time.” 

“What’s going on?” Eren asked as he rose to his feet. He did as he was told, pulling the ashen coat from their previous outing back on. 

Levi ignored this blatant disregard for personal hygiene, pushing the offense aside to address later. “An attack,” he said instead. “There isn’t much time, so find the other swab and stay with him—no matter what. Do you understand?” 

“But—” 

“That’s an _order_ from your captain.” 

Levi dashed to the far corner of the room, pulling a belt through the loops on his trousers, and snatched his blades from atop the piano. After securing them to his belt, he tossed the third blade in the other’s direction. The captain was already rushing to the keep’s doors, trusting that the other had caught the cutlass given that there hadn’t been the sound of something (or _someone_ , knowing how clumsy the kid was) falling to the floor. He looked back before exiting, and something in his chest caught. 

Every vestige of the calm of sleep had left Eren’s face. A deep crease between his brows conveyed his anger, but Levi couldn’t focus on that right now. 

_“Do you understand?”_ He tilted his head, enunciating the syllables of each word. He remained in the doorway, waiting, until Eren answered through tightly gritted teeth. 

“Yes, sir.” 

\- - -

An enemy was approaching, but he didn’t understand exactly what that meant for him. Eren had never left the prison aboard his previous ship—his captors had never allowed it—even when there had been screams echoing through the walls.

What was _he_ supposed to do if the _Sinna_ was attacked? 

Eren glanced at the bed and considered crawling under it to hide, despite the part of him that recoiled remembering Kitz, but before he could act on his idea, the doors swung open and his crewmates stepped inside. _Stumbled_ inside. Olou gripped the edge of a large crate, and Armin shook violently at its opposite end—from the strain of heavy lifting or from fear, Eren couldn’t tell. 

“Are you gonna help us or not, brat?” 

That moniker had sparked annoyance before, but it provoked outrage when Olou said it. Eren sulked forward to help Armin, hands clenched into pale-knuckled fists. Together, the three of them shakily carried the crate to the table, heaved in unison, and somehow managed to push it on top. 

“Gunpowder,” Olou announced, dusting off his shoulders nonchalantly. “You know what to do, swabbie?” 

“Yes I do, sir.” Armin answered. 

“Then get to it.” 

Olou dashed out of the room, squawking as he narrowly squeezed by Gunther and Eld coming in. Each carried his own crate, and they placed them onto the carpeted floor. 

“There are more outside,” one began. 

“Start with those, use these as a last resort,” the other finished. 

The pair exited, disappearing into the chaos on the deck, and Eren grew uneasy as he realized that he was now alone with Armin. Mikasa had been right—he’d avoided his old friends since their reunion aboard the ship—and he’d been prepared to continue avoiding them. His eyes failed him, however, flicking to the other’s uncertain smile. 

“Hi,” Armin said, blushing.

“Hi,” Eren returned, uncertain of where the conversation was heading. 

A loud blast from outside interrupted them before he could find out. The ship quaked from the impact, and Eren’s knees went weak, recalling those echoing screams from his nightmares. Armin grabbed his hand, yanking hard, and they both staggered outside. 

They crouched behind the gunpowder crates, squinting into the thick smoke clouding the air. The _Sinna’s_ crew scrambled through it, darting in and out of the cloud as they worked the sails. He heard the captain calling out for a moment, but covered his ears when another blast rang out. 

“Don’t worry!” Armin assured him, though he too had covered the sides of his head. “That’s a low grade cannon, they wouldn’t risk sinking the ship!” 

It was a scene Eren had witnessed before—many times—but his stomach turned as he imagined being _aboard_ a sinking ship: sails folding into the ocean like the wings of a creature that would never fly again, waxed floorboards giving way beneath his feet, water engulfing him as he lost control of his senses. 

Armin wedged a short knife into the topmost seam of a crate, working it until he had created a gap wide enough to stick his fingers under. He cupped Eren’s palms in demonstration, then he reached into the crate, scooping up some of the slate-colored substance and passing it to Eren. 

The powder was coarse against his skin, drying it out the longer it sat there in his palm. He was considering just dumping the unpleasant grittiness onto the pristine deck, but in the nick of time, Armin guided him to deposit it onto a small cloth. 

Armin deftly tied the corners of the cloth together while Eren wiped his hands against the fabric of his trousers, observing. The blond dropped the resulting cloth bulb into a pack resting over his shoulder. They continued the process until Armin’s pack was full, then they repeated it to fill a second for Eren. 

“You have to be ready if someone calls for them,” Armin told him, motioning towards the pack as Eren shouldered it. “The crew needs powder to fire their guns, and it runs out fast against the navy.” 

White sails glided into view behind the quarterdeck, pushing through the haze of smoke and ash. Eren’s grip tightened over the strap of the gunpowder pack, his breath catching as another cannon fired. There was the sound of more shots, sharper than the last, and shouts erupted from across the _Sinna._ He wasn’t sure who the voices belonged to, and he feared for the people he had begun to think of as _his_ crew.

“If they won’t sink us,” Eren said slowly, confusion boiling within him. “Why don’t we just sink _them?”_

“Even though you’ve spent so much time with the captain, you don’t know much about it at all, do you?” Armin said, turning to Eren as he pressed his back against a wooden crate. “The _Maria,_ the _Rose,_ and the _Sinna:_ they were the fastest ships in the navy’s fleet, before Captain Levi sunk one and stole the other. They want to recapture our ship, but he—”

The floorboards rattled beneath them, and Eren glanced into the keep through the open doors. The euphoria he’d experienced in the space hours earlier was gone: Levi’s piano stood neglected in the far corner, quilts had fallen off the hastily abandoned bed, and all the parchment on Levi’s table was hidden beneath the bulk of a crate. He imagined how distraught the captain would be when he returned to discover those documents crushed and dirtied. Then, as the _Sinna_ fired a volley, realization dawned on Eren.

“He wants to capture theirs.” 

Eren tried to steady himself, sinking down onto his heels to lean against a crate like Armin, carding a hand through his hair. He fought off the thought of how disappointed his mother would be by his pure negligence. He’d had the opportunity to leave the night before—he could have escaped and avoided this disaster altogether. Yet now he was trapped. _Again._ And this time, in a rivalry with the _Rose._

Shots sounded from the front of the deck, and Armin poked his head over the top of his crate. He ducked back a moment later at another blast, then he nudged Eren, who was rocking back and forth, hands pressed tightly against his ears. “Hey, it’ll be okay,” he said reassuringly. “It’s just like my adventure books—do you remember them?” 

Eren was actually trying not to, each breath sharpening in panic. Armin had taught him all that he knew about pirates from stories when they had been young. If those books were accurate, then one _—_ _or both_ _—_ of the ships was going to sink. 

Eren gripped the top of the crate, peeking at the scene for himself. Sparks flashed randomly through the smoke, metal clanked somewhere, and he hadn’t quite managed to make out what anyone was yelling before he had to duck down again. 

Screams. Eren closed his eyes. He clamped his hands over his ears again, tearing at his hair as he often did when agitated. He was humming before he was aware of it, each note soft as it purred in his chest. He started again when he got to the end of the tune, focused only on the melody he had created with Levi. 

“Eren?” Armin pulled a hand away from the other’s ear, clutching it tightly between his own. Eren opened his eyes to look at him, and all he felt was an overwhelming sense of regret. His friend’s concern was genuine, had been genuine from the moment they’d reunited, yet he’d disregarded it all this time. “Are you alright?” 

“Armin,” he choked out. “I’m—”

“Swab!” called a familiar, infuriatingly pompous voice. 

“I’ll be back!” Armin sprung from his side, disappearing into the smoke. 

Then Eren was alone, cannon fire his only company—for a moment. Her cries reached him before he saw her. Then a heel nearly collided with his face as she flung herself on top of the crate Eren was huddled behind. He had no idea where she had materialized from, but he was relieved to see his rescuer unscathed. 

“Hanji!” 

“EREN,” she howled, firing a large pistol in the direction of... _someone_ on deck. He could barely see through the thick haze and silently wondered if she was aiming at all. The muzzle of the weapon flashed, residual powder from the shot sinking into the crevices of the golden embellishments on the dark oak pistol. Hanji looked down at him with a wild expression. “What are you doing out here?!”

He stumbled over his response—he unerringly failed to answer the erratic quartermaster every time she asked him a question. “Aren’t I, uh, supposed to be out here?” 

“No! Are you crazy?” A finger flicked his nose and he recoiled in response. “Give me those!” She yanked at the strap on his chest, pulling the pack of gunpowder rounds over his head before throwing it over her own. 

“But the captain—” 

“No excuses! You’re precious cargo; it’s too dangerous out here for you!” Hanji had one of the bulbs held up to her mouth, somehow untying the knot with her teeth, then she funnelled the powder into her gun before Eren could even think of a retort. 

“But—” 

“Eren!” She snapped again. He clenched his jaw, frustration turning to anger because _no one_ was _listening_. “I don’t care what the captain told you,” Hanji continued. “He barely knows what’s good for _him,_ so he has no idea what’s best for you!” She aimed the pistol again, the kickback slamming into her shoulder when she pulled the trigger, but her scolding didn’t even falter. “Now move those feet and get inside!” 

Hanji leapt off of the crate, bolting back into the smog. Eren had told Levi that he understood, had assured him that he would remain with the other swab. But Armin was somewhere _out there_ in the chaos, so he followed Hanji’s new order. He shifted onto his feet slowly, crouching as he retreated to the safety of the keep, still protected by the bulk of the crates. He only stood when he reached the doors, and from his new vantage point, he could finally make out figures in the smoke. 

_He could see what was happening._

His crewmates were scattered, left to fend for themselves in ones and twos. The rest of the deck was a heaving ocean of navy soldiers swarming around them. The thickest concentration clustered beneath where the mast sail stood tall. They swung their blades, the silver flurries of their strikes like the flash of fish scales in the sun, distinct even through the haze. 

Levi was trapped in their center, visibly outnumbered, but each strike from his swords pushed the ocean back as surely as the moon pulled the tide away from the beach. He carried himself with a grace that Eren had never seen in a man before, that he’d never seen from _anyone_ before. It was a bizarre caricature of a dance, and Levi out-matched his partners every time. He grabbed hold of a rope and nimbly climbed up the mast, striking down the waves of navy soldiers that tried to follow. He had reached a post jutting from the side, and there he perched, giving a bound sail a good kick and sending it barrelling into his pursuers. 

Hair disheveled, Levi stood in the sky. His dual blades gleamed brightly, the halo of light surrounding him looking almost like a pair of wings. Eren’s heart skipped a beat, and he gaped as a grin—proud and mischievous—formed on the man’s lips.

A thud threw Eren from his reverie, and he watched as a plank linking the two vessels was steadied for the enemy to cross. 

The invader’s steps were slow, measured, somehow _imperious_ as he glided from the _Rose_ to step aboard the _Sinna._ A gold lined coat stretched across his broad shoulders, the tails flapping in his wake––more from his assured strides than the weak, sticky breeze. His very presence was a direct challenge to all those who called the _Sinna_ home, but Eren seemed to be the only person who had noticed him board. 

Eren scanned the deck, trying desperately to find familiar faces amidst the sea of navy uniforms. He spotted Hanji first. She stood a ways before him, attention devoted to sending her sword through a soldier’s leg, thus completely missing sight of the invader. And there—Armin, his blond head of hair bobbing in and out of sight as he wove through dozens of bodies to deliver gunpowder. Then Mikasa. She held tight to a sword, a smaller knife clenched between her teeth as she climbed a sail at the ship’s bow. None of them could see what he was seeing.

Another soldier, nearly as large as the first, had crossed the bridge. Eren gaped at the two of them—an obvious threat—and then his eyes fell upon the weapon the second soldier carried. He loaded it, dusted excess powder away, and presented it to his companion, who was clearly in charge. 

The large man nodded, took hold of the lengthy pistol (its golden embellishments looked identical to Hanji’s), and aimed. Eren’s gaze followed the end of the barrel. It pointed across the deck to its largest sail, where countless soldiers were attempting to drag Levi down. The captain spun about on the post, blades smoothly deflecting his attackers and causing them to fall over each other, spilling down the mast like a human waterfall. Each advance was ineffective, but it didn’t matter. 

The captain didn’t know that a gun was aimed at him.

It was an unconscious choice—like the one he’d made just the night before to return to the _Sinna._ His legs made the decision for him, vaulting over the crates and sprinting into the smoke, across the deck, lungs barely even registering the smog as he willed himself to go _faster,_ to reach the shooter in time. The man held the pistol steady, finger moving toward the trigger almost in slow motion, and Eren leapt, reaching for his outstretched arm. 

The bullet exploded from the muzzle, and it was as if everyone knew that this single shot amidst the rapid gunfire was especially significant. Eren’s body was flung backward, his cry cutting through the din of the battle as he tumbled onto the floorboards, a sharp pain blossoming on the side of his chest. 

_“No!”_ He could barely make out Levi’s roar over the deafening ringing in his ears. Eren curled into himself, feeling faint as throbs pulsed through his body. He touched the wound, nauseous when his hand came back drenched in red. The color engulfed his vision, and he could almost see his nightmares coming to pull him under, but someone snapped sharply in front of his face, dispelling them. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” the large man’s voice sliced through the buzzing in his ears like a shark through water. He returned the pistol to his companion and crouched in front of Eren, extending his hand in greeting nonchalantly. “I’m Erwin Smith, Commander of The Royal Navy’s expedition fleet.” 

Eren was taken aback at the casualty of the gesture. Biting back cries of pain, he ignored the other’s hand and forced himself upright, kneeling on the floor. He was panting with the effort when he was done, still ignoring the outstretched hand.

“That was a very noble action. I admire your dedication,” the commander continued, seemingly unbothered by Eren’s discourteous behavior. 

He hated him for it and made himself a promise that he’d get the man to snap—one way or another. Eren heaved a foot up, hoping (and failing) to get enough leverage to stand. He wobbled precariously, and Erwin steadied him with his hand. Recoiling at the touch and trying to vex the man, he growled, “what do you want?” 

The commander didn’t even blink. Eren hated him even more.

“That’s a complicated question. I’d love to discuss it with you, young man,” his eyes jerked toward Levi, screaming in rage as he tried futilely to wade through the navy soldiers to get to them. Erwin rose from his crouch, a behemoth towering above Eren. “—but if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to subdue your captain.”

Eren’s gaze followed the man, the _commander,_ as he glided toward the ship’s mast. The curve of the cutlass’ handle latched to his side — his gift from Levi’s uncle — was cool to the touch even as it became slick with blood. This time, _he_ made the decision. 

“Like hell!” 

With herculean effort he sprung up, staggering, and thrust the weapon towards the commander’s back. Satisfaction rose within him when the cutlass made contact with his side, and he plunged it downward with as much strength as he could muster. The navy coat fell from Erwin’s broad shoulders. 

Eren blinked furiously, confusion overwhelming him as he realized the weapon _hadn’t_ struck true. 

They didn’t spare fallen sailors. They didn’t spare _anyone._ Yet here was this man — this survivor. Eren had already feared the commander, but his whole body went rigid with shock when the man — if he _was_ a man—turned back, revealing the sleeve knotted around the stump of his severed arm. Even through the fabric, Eren could see the scars, their centers dark and inky.

How strong—how _powerful_ _—_ was Erwin Smith, to have survived that type of mer attack? 

He swung the cutlass in a final attempt to save himself, but the second soldier struck it from Eren’s grasp with his own blade. Defenseless and bleeding, he could only back away from Erwin in horror until his heels smacked against the side of the ship. 

That terrible hand reached out again, fingers spread wide, but Eren didn’t wait for whatever attack the commander intended. He clambered awkwardly onto the gunwale in an attempt to find escape, but the combination of dread and lightheadedness from blood loss made him teeter precariously.

“Eren!” 

It was Levi’s voice, hoarse from screaming his name, but the droning in Eren’s ears had returned, and everything else fell away as he plummeted between the ships and into the sea. 

  
  



	6. Into the Deep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo it’s update day! This is the chapter I’ve been most excited for since I started writing this fic and I’M SO READY. 
> 
> Friendly reminder from last week, this chapter also has a content warning for blood/gore.
> 
> ANYWAYS! Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and kudos(ing?) :,) You guys are wonderful and have really helped inspire me to work on this story ;^; so thank you! <3 
> 
> Usual stuff:  
> My ereri blog is chibi-eren on tumblr  
> My incredible beta/editor is sidereality 
> 
> Good luck… and see you next Sunday ;)

Bits of glass crunched under his weight as he shifted to grip the bedpost. The captain had left several minutes ago—at any moment, Eren expected him to return. The long, ragged edges of his nails stung as they bent, caught in the wood grain, and he jolted when the other creature made itself known. It rubbed its small face against his wrist, purring. The tension in Eren’s muscles eased at the soft touch, and he freed a hand from the post to stroke the fur behind its ear. 

The cabin doors flew open, slamming into the walls with a cacophonous noise, and the cat bounded away into the mess of the rest of the room. Eren shrunk back, retreating as far under the bed as he could, and he held back a gasp behind his hand. A pair of boots, scuffed and covered in grime, stomped inside. They stilled as metal clicked, the cabin doors bolting shut in a slow, ominous portent, then they traversed the circumference of the room—passing by the windows, then the table, circling around the bed. 

“ _Little demon_.” A shiver prickled Eren’s skin. “ _Where are you?”_

The man’s tone dripped with pleasure, just as the water did from the full pails he carried. One after the other, droplets fell at a steady pace, forming a shallow puddle beneath the man’s boots as he set them down. Eren gulped, the tang of fear sour in his throat.

The copper cat reemerged and curiously rubbed its head against one of the boots. It made an inquisitive mew, but before it could purr again, a hand yanked it up by the scruff of its neck and flung it across the room. Eren felt rage, his downfall, the very thing that had led to his imprisonment here, boiling inside of him as the cat yowled, sailing toward the opposite wall. 

He lunged forward, digging his nails into the man’s calf exposed above the cuff of his leather boot. This could be it— _he needed to kill the monster_. He held on desperately, squeezing tighter even as the muscles in his hands began to cry out, ignoring the missing details he knew that he needed to make this an actual _plan_ , because this was his only option, his only chance for escape.

The man stumbled back, shrieking out for assistance. The door rattled, but those outside failed to break past its locks; the very trap the predator had set had now made him the prey. Eren’s legs were dead weight as he hung on, the chains wrapped over the feeble things ensuring he couldn’t use them for leverage. They were useless, as was the rest of his body where the iron restricted him, but his hands were not. His captor had made the mistake of keeping his hands free, and so Eren used them until blood dripped from the man’s leg, just like the water did from the buckets. 

Crimson flooded his senses, and Eren lunged forward, teeth bared, to bite. A lance of pain surged through him as an elbow connected with his temple, and suddenly his assailant was hauling his weight over Eren’s prone body, twisting the chains so that he was held down. The man had conjured a thin knife from somewhere, and Eren cried out when it plunged into his chest. 

“How do you like that?!” Sunken eyes gleamed with malice as the man pulled the blade out and stabbed him again. “Well?!” 

“Get off of me!” Eren’s hands turned to fists as he attempted to push himself up, but his legs continued to be useless, and he couldn’t get any leverage on the man bearing down on him. 

There was a horrific wet noise as the knife slid free of the carnage of his chest, stopping just below his chin. The tip scratched Eren’s Adam's apple as he swallowed. “Let me go.” His half-choked words barely came out. 

Shards of glass embedded themselves in Eren’s back as he strained against the unforgiving surface of the floor, trying to get some distance from the madman. The captain leaned over him in return, closing the gap, the stink of his breath as he roared with laughter burning Eren’s eyes. Blinking away tears, another twinge of fear coursed through his muscles when a wide grin covered the other’s face. 

“I paid a pretty penny for you.” His body quaked, laughter erupting from deep within him. A hand reached behind, searching blindly for the pails. Eren could hear the water slosh as the captain found one and then reached for the other, pinned helplessly under the monster’s knees. “So _you’re_ going to help me.”

Then he overturned the buckets, and everything washed away. 

\- - -

The sting of impact as he hit the water was incomparable to the anticipation churning in his stomach. He thrashed his limbs, desperately trying not to sink, but his useless legs proved to be even less coordinated in the water than they had been on land.

Bubbles surrounded him, a tickling flurry of silver rising to the surface as the sea wound her cold fingers around him, pulling him deeper into her embrace. Saltwater soaked his clothing, saturating every stitch of thread and making his boots as heavy as if they’d been filled with stones. It stung the minuscule cuts on his lips, rushing down his throat, and Eren choked as it set his lungs ablaze. 

He reached for the fresh air above, outstretched hand fractured with blue-white opalescence as the sun cut through the waves, his other grasping at his shoulder. Fingers grazed the perforated flesh, and he watched as a thick tendril of red followed when he pulled his hand away. He blinked the stinging salt from his eyes as the color faded in and out of his vision. A final cough burbled from his lips, and he watched as the last vestiges of his breath floated away above his head. Beams of light danced through the current, too bright even as he sank further away from the surface, so he closed his eyes, hoping they would remain shut. 

Life would be easy if it ended this way, if he’d drown once his lungs were overfilled with water. But that wasn’t the nature of his existence. 

The pain had no mercy for self-pity. The ocean had always been relentless: bone tore through flesh, warping like old coral, crumbling like shipwrecks eaten away by rust and time to become unidentifiable debris. Joints snapped apart and fused again in new shapes, muscles lengthening and tightening, his body pulled apart and reshaped at the sea’s cruel whims. 

His screams surely rang loud enough to be heard fathoms away beneath the surface, while above the peppering of cannon fire from the ships carried on the ocean breeze. Eren choked as air surged into his lungs once again, his lungs having come to the conclusion that the water filling them was no longer an issue, and he forced himself to breathe. 

He could hear them now. The voices were unrecognizable, yet undeniably _there. Strangers._ A pod he didn’t know, singing songs he’d never sung. Their warning was obvious—this battle was claimed. Was _theirs_. But red pulsed in his vision, clouds of blood far too close, too vivid, overtaking all of the instincts that told him to stay away as a figure plunged through the waters, followed by a flash of gold.

He bolted towards the prey, zeroing in on the person’s exposed flesh, his curse more than he could control. Claws stabbed into the sailor’s calf with the ease of a hot knife through butter, and he tore away a mouthful of flesh. It melted over his tongue decadently, slid down his throat like the richest of wines, and his battered muscles relaxed at having sated his appetite. 

The haze of red lingered, even when the female mer’s golden eyes met his. He backed away from the sailor’s leg as she lunged toward him with a screech, releasing the bleeding face of the prey _she’d_ claimed that he’d infringed upon. Light hair swirled around her piercing eyes as she ran claws over him and ripped strings of tissue from his abdomen—at this rate, Eren wasn’t convinced his torso would _ever_ be scar-free. Her fangs burned where they pierced his skin, and Eren thrashed in an attempt to escape her. 

His efforts ended up being unnecessary. She was suddenly gone, abandoning him in a miasma of blood and torn flesh. He wasn’t sure what had persuaded her to leave an easy kill such as himself, but he almost wished she hadn’t given up. Once again, Eren floated there and wished that he could drown. His eyelids drooped, swollen and heavy with resignation, but a glimmer of silver captured his gaze before they could close fully. Levi’s ring, secure on his finger despite everything, reflected daylight, a dozen different shades of grey dancing with the current. Eren’s eyes shot open.

He couldn’t drown. He couldn’t _die_. He had to say goodbye to the captain. 

Pushing toward the surface, he willed his body into submission despite the wounds he couldn’t seem to help but collect more of. Eren gasped as his head broke through, expecting to be met with sea air and smoke, but he was greeted instead with increasingly choppy water. Waves splashed into his face, threatening to push him back under. They were rapid, unnatural, born from fallen debris and cannon fire between the two ships. 

_Well_ , he realized, _from_ one _of the ships_.

The _Sinna_ shot round after round. A dark smog concealed the actual cannons from view, but sparks flashed with each volley. Eren swam for the back of the ship, using the decorative carvings on the hull as a target. The carvings were shallow—purely ornamental, another show of wealth on an already beautiful ship running up the hull from the waterline to the captain’s quarters. Though the ship rocked, producing a series of deterring waves, he persisted, and when he finally got close enough, he lunged for the handholds, claws sinking into the oak. The wood was slippery beneath his hands, and he knew that for most humans the dull rounded edges of their fingers wouldn’t be able to get enough purchase to climb. His muscles screamed at the exertion of hauling his entire body weight up, but he eventually reached the windowsill, grateful for the strength gifted to him by the sea. 

He pushed against the glass, but it didn’t budge. _Locked from the inside._ He perched there for a moment, stumped. His plan thwarted by something as simple as a closed window latch. Ocean spray flecked him with wet foam as if to dig the barb of failure in further. Eren screamed, releasing all the hopelessness raging inside of him in a raw cry as he hammered at the window with his fists. 

Against all odds, a few knocks suddenly returned from the panel’s opposite side, and then it opened. Eren hadn’t been expecting this, and as the frame opened inward, he found himself sliding into the keep uncontrollably; his face smacked into the carpets, arms pinwheeling and failing to find support, the rest of him following in an ungraceful landing. He cried out again, this time because of the pain emanating from his smashed nose. 

A gasp escaped his rescuer, hands covering his mouth in shock. “Oh... oh no, Eren.” Armin trembled, but Eren didn’t have the chance to explain before his old friend fled the keep.

Eren untangled himself and crawled after the blond, a stream of carnage left in his path. He wasn’t sure where he was going, and he didn’t know what would happen if he made it there. Yet he slithered over the floorboards nevertheless, determined to say goodbye to his captain. His lower half struck something behind him, his clumsiness amplified even more in the state he was in, and he glanced back to see the looking glass shatter on the floor. 

He winced, then hesitated. Despite the task he’d set himself, he couldn’t quite resist the allure of what little he could see of himself in the fragments, so he shifted his course, abandoning his mission briefly to inspect it. 

His reflection was unrecognizable. That refined, put-together version of himself from just a day prior was nowhere to be found. The man who’d so proudly worn the polished boots and velvet sash had been swallowed by the ocean, and she had spit back out a monster in his place. Hot tears spilled from burning golden eyes, reflected back at him a hundred times over in the broken glass—and more than anything in that moment, Eren wished that he had drowned. 

The keep’s doors creaked open, and Eren waited for Kitz to call out, for the water to fill his lungs, for each bone in his legs to be remade. A fresh wave of horror and nausea crashed over him, and then his body thumped hard against the floor.

\- - -

Armin locked the keep’s doors after ushering his companions inside. Mikasa sprinted across the room without a second of hesitation, but Hanji spared herself a moment to gawk at the scene. 

“Holy crap!” She, too, attempted to rush forward, but the hefty medical chest she was toting slowed her down. Once she’d lugged it to the unmade bed, laying out its contents over the sheet with practiced hands, she charged for the corner where Mikasa was extricating Eren’s body from the broken glass. “Look at his FIN!” 

“He’s not waking up,” Mikasa croaked. “Eren, can you hear me?” 

“Well, if he’s asleep, he can’t!” Hanji cackled, earning a scowl from the other woman. She sobered. “Hurry and get him onto the table!”

Armin heaved at the gunpowder crate on the table’s surface as Mikasa hauled Eren over, but it had taken him, Eren, and Olou to put it there in the first place, and he couldn’t budge it. Hanji made for Levi’s makeshift bar and selected a bottle of rum. She could admit she was a little surprised when she heard the sound of the crate hitting the ground—Armin wasn’t the brawniest member of the crew, after all, but she guessed he’d managed to build up _some_ strength—but then he squeaked a “thanks” to Mikasa, who had apparently toppled the crate with a single shove while carrying the patient in her other arm. 

“Great job, kiddos,” the quartermaster said, returning to the bed and poring over the selection of devices she’d laid out. “Now, Mikasa, tie his arms to the—” 

“ _What?!_ ” A roar of outrage burst from two throats, and Hanji groaned, getting the impression that she had already broken what little trust she had just earned from the pair. 

She looked over the body of her patient, struggling to keep her eyes off of his lower half. Green and gold scales caught the light, shimmering brightly. The urge to get a sample was overwhelming. Getting _near_ mer safely was unheard of, much less _surviving_ being in their presence; she’d never been so close to one without them trying to bite off her head or limbs. Yet here Eren was, placid and _tame_ , for lack of a better word, his tail reflecting the colors of a perfect summer afternoon. 

The rest of his body could not be described as poetically. His trousers were gone, obviously, and the fine ashen coat he’d worn had been reduced to tattered shreds, barely hanging onto his frame. Deep slashes were cut into his chest and abdomen, thin black lines already forming in their centers. The veins around the abrasions had turned dark, spider-webbing out into his pale flesh. They were ghastly, but nothing in comparison to the butchering of his left flank. 

Blood poured from the bite mark in the soft skin below his ribs. Even with her experience, having worked on wounds dealt by both monsters and men, Hanji had to swallow the bile in her throat at the sight. She wondered what had prompted a mer to attack one of their own, adding it to her already long mental note of questions to ask Eren, and hoped that—if nothing else—the existence of incontrovertibly mer-inflicted wounds would argue for his innocence. 

“Not to be pessimistic, but your buddy looks like meatloaf.” Hanji pulled the cork out of the bottle with her teeth and poured the amber liquid over her tools, focusing on getting every nook and cranny doused in alcohol. “ _I_ don’t personally want to look like that, so tie him down before he attacks.”

“Eren would never—” 

“Hanji’s right.” Armin interrupted, taking hold of the coil of rope looped on Mikasa’s belts. “He’ll lose control like this, and we’re running out of time—”

As if he’d heard those words, Eren lurched toward Armin in a purely primal reaction, claws reaching for the tear in his trousers where the swab had cut open his knee. Mikasa flung herself forward, always the fierce protector, shielding him with her own body. A claw missed her eye by an inch, tearing the skin on her cheek open. 

Hanji wrapped herself around his thrashing tail, attempting not to find _too_ much enjoyment from this wholly unique experience. She wouldn’t have been able to hold him down alone, had Mikasa not pinned Eren’s arms with each of her own. 

“Just do it!” Mikasa screamed over the snarling mer, and Armin quickly complied, pulling the rope from her waist. He lashed Eren’s wrists to a table leg each, and bound his tail to its surface. Hanji hoped it was enough to keep him secure. 

Eren wrenched against the ropes, and though they held, the table rocked with each of his violent moves. He writhed, golden eyes wide and angry, his growls echoing through the keep. They would have to work fast.

“I’ve got some bandages in there.” Hanji directed Mikasa to the medicine chest, resuming her sterilization of her tools with new urgency. The girl’s cheek was already flushed with toxin, blood and tears unable to hide the dark pigment rushing through her veins. It was obvious— _too_ obvious—that she hadn’t received the wound in battle. “You need to cover that scratch.” 

Mikasa did as instructed. Hanji left her to her own devices, finishing her own task of sterilizing her tools, and walked to the side of the table. Eren had stopped struggling for the moment, heaving great breaths through his mouth. Their eyes met, and the mer’s pupils dilated, irises shifting between hues of gold and green, gaze flicking back and forth as if he couldn’t quite focus on one thing. 

“That’s peculiar,” Hanji whispered under her breath. She shifted her gaze to his shoulder to investigate his bullet wound, but it… it wasn’t there. “Wasn’t he shot?” 

“Yes, but as a human,” Armin piped up from her side. “Like this, he should only sustain injuries he got as a mer.” 

The quartermaster whirled around and shook him by the shoulders. “ _Why didn’t you tell me that two days ago?!_ ” 

“I—I’m sorry! We were in there for hours! I thought I’d told you everything!”

Armin’s confession didn’t surprise Hanji. She’d dragged the two kids into her study after the whole incident with Eren and the soap bucket. Not only had the interrogation confirmed her suspicions about the captain’s new favorite crewmember, but she’d also discovered that Armin was a little encyclopedia of the ocean, or at the very least was someone who was obsessed with the mer as she was. 

There were more pressing issues, though. Eren had begun coughing, and bound as he was, unable to turn onto his side, there was the very real threat of him aspirating the water before she could even patch him up. His entire body convulsed with each breath, spitting fluid all over himself. Then _it_ began, and Hanji cursed herself for having taken so long, for having gotten caught up in her own damn curiosity. 

They had run out of time. 

Eren’s soft whining turned to groans, then erupted into ear-splitting screams. The only sound capable of being worse than his cries of agony was the horrific cracking of his bones as they broke, the wet tearing noise of muscle and tendon splitting. It wasn’t a sound any of them were likely to ever forget. Hanji couldn’t decide whether it was worse when the screaming stopped as Eren slumped against the table, mercifully unconscious, but the grisly sound of his transformation continued. 

Armin’s shaking hands were once more clamped over his mouth, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. She needed him to get it together. They didn’t have time to be in shock. 

“Blondie,” Hanji snapped authoritatively, nudging his side. “Thick cloth. On the bed. Put pressure on that bite.” 

“Yes! Yes ma’am!” He scurried away, stumbling into Mikasa as he searched for the item. 

_Smooth sailing from now on_ , she hoped fervently, just as someone hammered a fist against the doors. “Who’s in there?” the voice outside demanded. 

“ _Dammit!_ ” She had enough problems on her hands already, but _of course_ Eren’s cries had led the captain to his keep. “Mikasa, barricade those doors!” 

“Is that really necessary?” 

“It sure as hell is!” The doors rattled on their hinges, and it sounded as if the man outside had begun to try and kick them down. “Do it before he breaks through!” 

“Open up right now!” 

Mikasa dragged the heavy gunpowder crates across the floor and braced them against the entrance, then she stood back and readied her blade in case the captain broke through. Armin rejoined Hanji with the cloth she’d asked for, acting as a second pair of hands as he pressed the fabric into Eren’s side where a mer had taken a mouthful of flesh from him. It soaked through in an instant, but in the grand scheme of things, the damage of the bite was nothing when compared to his tail _literally splitting in two_ to become legs. 

“You really don’t wanna be in here right now!” Hanji called out. “This is for your own good! Trust me, Levi!” 

She threaded a needle to stitch the wounds shut before he could lose even _more_ blood, but then Armin squeaked, and Hanji looked up to see Eren looking at her, green eyes clouded with pain and confusion. 

A deep crease furrowed his brow, tufts of salt-stiff damp hair falling across his forehead. His pale face glistened with sweat, and his teeth chattered as he said, “Levi?” 

A relieved smile spread wide across Hanji’s face, and she struggled to keep her giddiness under control. She brushed his hair back instead, hoping to soothe him at least a little bit, even if she could only spare a moment—his wounds _really_ shouldn’t wait. “The captain is fine, Mister Fishy! He went a bit ballistic after you fell overboard, but that convinced the good ol’ commander to retreat. Whole crew thinks you’re a hero!” 

Green eyes widened and somehow Eren’s face paled even further. She feared he’d be sick, and she was about to tell Mikasa to quickly untie him so he didn’t choke on his own vomit, but then he looked at her gravely and begged, “Hanji, please… please don’t—” 

“Don’t what, Eren? Tell him?” She stroked his forehead comfortingly once more, then nudged Armin so they could trade places. Needle poised in hand, Hanji tilted her head and winked. 

“I haven’t yet, have I?” 

\- - -

He was _filthy_. 

He was practically marinating in blood—what was worse was he wasn’t even certain if it was his own. Matted locks of hair fell into his face. His cravat hung loosely from his neck. He was absolutely disgusting, but he wasn’t currently occupied with thoughts of amending the situation. Not since he’d heard _that noise_ ringing out from the keep, giving voice to what could only be the deepest throes of agony. 

They had stopped moments earlier, but the captain wasn’t deterred. Those screams belonged to a ghost. Levi rarely gave in to superstitions, but it was the only possible explanation for him to have heard the voice of the man whose singing had captivated him the night before. He drew one of his blades—not as bright as they usually were so soon after battle—and jammed it into the wood of his cabin door, _needing_ to confirm the source of the screams for himself. The doors were thick, solid wood, but they hadn’t encountered the captain’s considerable strength and desperation before. Battered from him hammering his fists and finally taking his blade to them, the wood gave way, splintering enough so that Levi could kick down a hole big enough for him to step through. 

But of course, it couldn’t be that easy. Levi shoved aside the crates hastily barricaded against the door, and then drew his second blade as someone came at him, immediately on the offensive. It was not someone he’d expected. She worked with the sails—primarily the front, he recalled—yet she dove after him with a level of combat skill that proved challenging. Part of Levi was proud that he employed such capable individuals on the _Sinna_ , but the rest of him seethed with frustration. Capable or not, this girl was _in his way_. 

“Mikasa!” Hanji wailed—there she was, he _knew_ that she was the culprit behind this. “Let him in! We’re finished.” 

The girl stopped trying to fight him, and Levi stepped forward, but she didn’t budge otherwise. He noted the insubordinate glare she sent his way. That was no way to address her captain, but he’d rectify the situation later. 

“What the hell is going on?” He demanded, pushing past the girl—Mikasa. He stopped in his tracks. The quartermaster hadn’t answered, preoccupied with pulling a quilt from the floor to drape over the body on his table. 

He lay very still, arms by his sides, legs stretched out along the length of the surface. The other swab stood beside him, fumbling to coil a long stretch of rope. Hanji had turned to tuck items back into her medical chest, but she smirked at Levi over her shoulder when he approached. 

The quilt covered most of him, but Levi could see the gauze covering his torso, wrapped around his rib cage and up to his shoulder—the shoulder he’d been _shot in_ , all because of _him_. His chest rose and fell slowly in the measured rhythm of someone blessedly knocked out from pain, a small whimper escaping with each exhale. He was battered, bruised, obviously incredibly injured, but it was undeniable—there was no ghost. 

_Eren was alive._

Levi’s legs gave way beneath him, and his knees thudded against the floor. 

“How is this possible?” He croaked, his throat suddenly as dry as the desert. 

“Well, Armin here has a pretty great eye!” Hanji nudged the blond swab, who blushed at her compliment. “And Mikasa’s skilled with a rope—she was able to reel him in—and you know how I feel about sewing!”

He couldn’t stop himself from staring at Eren, drinking in every inch of him _alive_ and _here_ , staggeringly overwhelmed with confusion and relief. “He escaped…” 

“Pretty lucky, if you ask me.” 

Levi knew luck had nothing to do with it. 

Yet _logic_ could not explain how the man was back on his ship. How he had survived the mer that had torn at his flesh. How _he_ had done so, when so many others, many stronger and more capable, had not. 

His eyes went again to his quartermaster, who tilted her head, giving him a genuine smile. Besides being superstitious, she knew more about the creatures than anyone he’d ever met, and she was always the first person to accept (or jump to) supernatural conclusions. If _she_ believed that Eren had survived because of luck, that there wasn’t some sort of hidden explanation, then shouldn’t he? 

Levi couldn’t answer the question, but it hardly mattered now as he gripped Eren’s fingers, cold and clammy, but _alive_ , their jeweled rings side by side. 

  
  



	7. Their Harbor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOO happy Sunday! Eren’s secret is finally out—well, to us at least.
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos on this fic! It’s been so much fun to work on and it’s really inspiring that you guys like it :,D 
> 
> Usual update things:  
> My ereri blog is chibi-eren on tumblr  
> My wonderful beta/editor is Sidereality <3 
> 
> Enjoy, and ‘sea’ you next week ;)

The long weeds tickled as he dipped down to cup a handful of silt. He sifted the mud between his fingers as he made his way through the shallows, the sediment soft and silky to the touch underwater. The sun was just coming up over the horizon, but underwater, the denizens of the ocean played all hours of the day. There was an air of peace tinged with anticipation as he waited beneath the dock, surrounded by creatures enjoying the last vestiges of shade. Bare feet plunged through the silver divide, and the fish scattered, spooked by the pale ankles swishing back and forth through the beams of early morning light.

Excitement overwhelmed him, and he had to bite back a laugh so as not to alert his prey. Pulse rushing in anticipation, he wrapped his hands around the thin ankles and threw himself backward, using the force of his entire body to pull his victim in. The other boy never put up a fight, and he slid underwater like an eel from his seat atop the dock. Eren expected it to be only a moment until the boy’s savior dove in after them, and he was correct. 

Air bubbles rose around the children as they pushed toward the surface. Eren drew in a deep breath when his head broke through, drinking in the sensation of the fresh sea breeze filling his lungs. His enjoyment was short-lived. Mikasa draped herself over his shoulders, wrapping her soaked scarf over his face, and shoved him back under. Despite the unexpected assault, it was simple enough for him to overpower her—the sea was _his_ domain. 

“Cut it out!” Armin typically had to intervene in their little spats, but he never dared to swim anywhere near the two as they repeatedly dunked each other. Instead, he did the sensible thing, watching from a safe distance and shouting their names until his voice got through their thick skulls and the fight gave way to laughter. 

“You terrified me, Eren!” Armin pouted once his friends finally stopped trying to imitate buoys in a storm, with all the erratic bobbing in and out of the water. “I could’ve drowned!” 

“I would _never_ let you drown,” Eren laughed, stretching out to float on his back, hands clasped leisurely behind his head. “And neither would Mikasa!” 

“He’s right, you know.” 

“Fine, but promise me that you’ll never do that again.” 

“Not until tomorrow!” Eren cut through the water to the blond, but this time instead of submerging him, he lifted the smaller boy up and tossed him into the air. 

“Don’t start that again!” Mikasa called, splashing warningly in their direction. Her dash of water was drowned by the mini tidal wave from Armin plunging back into the sea, but it did save the boy from being flung around again.

Eren dove beneath the surface, swooping deftly below where his companions’ legs kicked against the current. The pair grew quiet, squinting into the dazzling water, trying to spot his shadow somewhere in the depths. He let them sit in suspense for a long moment, then he breached behind Mikasa, and when she turned he spit a mouthful of water onto her face. She sputtered in surprise as the boys started laughing, wiping at her assaulted eyes with the hem of her (already soaked) sleeve. 

“That wasn’t funny!” The squeak in her voice betrayed her, and the boys’ giggles grew even louder. Mikasa’s nose remained crinkled a few moments longer in mock anger, but she couldn’t keep it up for long, accepting defeat and breaking into her own peals of laughter. 

“Hey, kids!” A voice coming from the dock immediately silenced the children’s mirth. 

Eren’s stomach turned as fear took the place of elation. His friends moved quickly to block the view of his body from the approaching soldiers, and he tried to mimic their actions to look as if he, too, was treading water.

It was not an easy task. His breathing turned panicked, and it kept sharpening until Mikasa’s hand found his and squeezed in reassurance. Then Armin’s hand took his other one, and Eren gripped their fingers tightly, trying to keep his fin still behind their bodies so it didn’t reflect the sunshine 

The necessity of his friends’ protection was unexpected—this had never happened before. Dawn was their time together; they should have still had several hours before patrols began across the shore. Yet three crimson-clad soldiers walked leisurely to the end of the dock, smiling indulgently at the children splashing around so early in the morning, though the muskets slung over their backs gave Eren chills. He wouldn’t be able to escape. The harbor was too shallow, the water too clear... they’d easily be able to see him if he attempted to flee, and the thought of being shot at terrified him. 

“Mr. Hannes!” He was grateful when Armin spoke, even if his voice wavered an octave higher than his typical steady resolve. “Good morning, sir! Isn’t it a bit early to be drinking?—Sir!” 

The soldiers cackled, nudging one another in the ribs as if to mock him. Eren’s fear shifted to anger as he noticed the bottles they held and the unsteady way they bumbled into each other, sloshing liquid onto the wooden planks that ran through the slats into the water below their feet. 

These were the humans he’d been warned about.

“That’s _exactly_ why we’re drinking! Running patrols before the Sun’s all the way up is pure cruelty.”

Armin laughed along uneasily as Hannes pounded his companions’ backs with macho fervor. Eren glared at the soldiers in disgust. 

“You kids need to come out of there, though.” Hannes emptied the remaining liquid from his bottle and tossed it off the dock, clearing his throat and straightening up as he continued. “There’ve been some mer sightings nearby—that’s why we’re up bright and early. We’ve been told to evacuate the coast.” 

“Mer sightings?” Armin asked for clarification, and heat flooded Eren’s face. His eyes grew wide as the broad man unslung his musket, positioning it in his hands. His mother had warned him not to visit the dock, but he hadn’t taken her seriously. He'd never expected to be discovered. 

“Just south of here,” Hannes continued. “At least a couple of them lurking around the tide pools.” 

A frightened gasp escaped Eren before he could stop it.

“His Majesty’s Royal Navy can’t handle it on their own!” One of the soldiers wailed. “That’s why the rest of the military is stepping in!” 

Eren’s lungs seemed to have stopped working, and he gaped like a fish as fear coursed through his veins. His friends huddled closer when his grip on their hands tightened, but the eyes of the man holding the musket had lost the glaze of inebriation, and his gaze sharpened as he scrutinized the trio in the water. 

“ _Stepping in?_ ” The third soldier whined, taking a swig from his bottle. “I wouldn’t call hiring _rippers_ ‘stepping in’.” 

“I don’t think I’ve met your friend, who is this?” Hannes interrupted his companions’ exchange, studying Eren’s face.

“He—He’s part of my family,” Mikasa stuttered. “He’s just visiting from out of town.”

Eren knew they were trying to protect him. He knew that them protecting him was what was best for _all_ of them. But the soldiers’ discussion echoed in his mind, taunting him with information he did not understand, and Armin and Mikasa were unable to stop him from lunging forward, shoving them aside and breaking free from their hands.

“What is a ripper?!” 

“Well, what does it sound like?” The third soldier scoffed condescendingly at the boy. So strong was Eren’s intent that he didn’t even notice the horrified expression upon Hannes’ face—he was too preoccupied by the terror spreading through every muscle in his own body. 

“Kids, _get out of the water!_ ” 

Something primal took over him at those words, something purely animal and bent on survival. He dove as deep as he could and rushed away from the dock, swimming away from the soldiers patrolling the harbor and away from his friends. He heard Hannes’s shrieks and the sound of someone jumping into the water. Then, after a small delay, the chilling sound of musket fire in the distance. 

“Eren, wait!” He heard Armin’s muffled scream from above the surface, but he couldn't bring himself to look back.

He would come to regret that later—never saying goodbye to the pair who had shared so much of their world with him. 

\- - - 

Eren’s swollen eyelids struggled open—he had to blink several times before the pillow resting under his face registered with his senses. And then, _pain_. His torso burned with overwhelming agony unlike anything he’d felt before. Captors’ blades, the still raw memory of his bullet wound — it all dulled when compared to _this_. Sight only confirmed the sensation of pain, blood and light discharge weeping freely through the cloth wound dressings a harbinger for the horrors that lay beneath. He reached up gingerly, trying to investigate his bandages, but the sharp ache resulting from his attempt prompted a weak groan instead. 

It was only then, when the vague shape in the periphery of his vision moved, that Eren realized someone—maybe _multiple_ someones? his vision still wasn’t the best after waking up—was sitting beside him. Her eyes popped open and she sprung to her feet, knocking into her dozing companion as she did. The slight blond toppled from his chair, squawking indignantly as he hit the floor, but once he saw Eren—eyes open and looking their way—he scrambled to the bedside at once, wearing an ecstatic smile. 

“You’re awake!” Armin brought himself to his knees and took Eren’s hand in his own.

The invalid’s attempts to respond came out as a harsh croak, and he winced at the discovery that his throat also burned. Mikasa pushed the dampened hair away from his forehead, easing her arms under Eren to help him sit upright; then she retrieved a bottle from the table behind her, popped its cork, and crouched next to Armin. 

“Here,” she said as she pressed the mouth of the bottle against Eren’s lips, tilting his chin back encouragingly. “Drink a little more of this, Hanji says it helps with the pain.”

“What do you mean _more_ ?” Eren sputtered after obediently taking a swig and consequently struggling to keep the amber liquid down. Even if it _would_ ease his pain, Eren still despised rum.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Armin sighed. 

“Eren.” Mikasa motioned to the table, where nearly a dozen similar bottles lay scattered and emptied. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for nine days.” 

“I— _w_ _hat_?”

“Your injuries are severe,” The blond swab’s hair fell over his face as he hunched over. “This is the most coherent you’ve been since… well, you know.” 

“You _do_ know, right?” Mikasa pressed. 

The memories returned to him in a flash. The soldier with the musket—no, Erwin Smith, the _commander_ _—_ firing his pistol. The searing pain of the bullet near his neck. A voice screaming his name, the sea swallowing him up. 

He was no longer a child. He did not live at the rocky tide pools, nor did he visit his human friends in the harbor any longer. They were grown, all three of them, and he was with them aboard the _Sinna_. 

“You guys,” he pushed out of his raspy throat. “How did you… why?” 

“Because you’re our _friend_ , Eren.” 

He felt a tinge of hope at Armin’s words. Maybe the other boy was right, he _had_ always been the most clever of them, after all. Eren took in the tiredness in his friends’ eyes, the familiar way Armin’s lips tugged into a genuine smile. Mikasa’s own smile was a little more sniffly, swollen eyes glittering with emotion as the tears ran down her cheeks—down one cheek at least. 

Eren couldn’t make out the shape of her wound behind the bandage, but the inky tendrils emerging from the edges of the gauze were evidence of what he had done. The smile retreated from his lips, barely stifled sobs wracking his frame as he yanked his hand from Armin’s as quickly as if he’d been burned. 

More memories returned. Tearing muscles, shattering bones. Blood in his nose, streaming down his throat. The wispy haired mer with the burning golden eyes. Teeth ripping through an innocent man’s leg, bliss overwhelming him as the sweet flesh melted on his tongue. How could he have been such a fool? He could never be their friend. 

_He was a monster._

“Eren…”

“Don’t touch me!” He was tearing at his hair, his distress ramping upward in volume as he shoved Mikasa’s hand away when she reached comfortingly for his shoulder. Eren felt a pang in his chest when he caught the pair’s baffled faces through the hot tears pooling in his eyes. 

“Why do you think we’re here?” Mikasa whispered as she dropped back into her seat. 

Wasn’t it obvious? 

“You’re pirates,” he answered. 

“Well, technically, yes,” Armin moved slowly enough so that Eren could say no, conveying the action as he took his friend's hands. “But we became pirates to find you.” 

“I… I don’t understand.” 

“Captain Levi has... a _reputation_ for working with mer,” Mikasa clarified in what sounded almost like a growl beneath her breath. “We joined his crew eight months ago. Spent three years before that taking jobs for passage between the islands.” 

“We didn’t know what happened after you escaped. I mean, they only brought one mer back to shore, and we… we just wanted…” Armin rubbed at the tears running down his cheeks.

“But you were supposed to be a scholar,” Eren croaked, realization finally dawning on him. “And Mikasa, you wanted to join the navy.” 

The pair suddenly burst out laughing, and Eren’s mouth quivered as he tried to understand what they found so funny. They’d given up their dreams, their lives, just for the slim chance of seeing him again. He had thought of them often, yes, but never once had he considered going back. Even if they didn’t believe he was a monster, he didn’t deserve to be their friend. 

Armin’s voice interrupted his self-pity. “The world’s a lot different than we thought. It isn’t easy for orphans to rise through the ranks, but more than that...” 

Mikasa smiled softly and finished the sentiment. “You’re more important to us, Eren.” 

Eren couldn’t help it. He started crying again, but this time his sobs weren’t due to the pain lancing through his chest. He was desperately heartbroken, cursing himself viciously for having abandoned them for so many years. “I’m sorry,” he stumbled over his apology. “I’m so sorry—” 

Armin gently wrapped his arms around him. Mikasa wrapped her arms around the two of them in turn, and the soreness in Eren’s heart eased slightly from the comfort they provided. He didn’t want to release them, content to remain there in the harbor of their arms, hugging them for as long as they’d allow; because they needed him, but far more than that, he needed _them._

“Ahem,” came a voice from the keep’s entrance, sending Mikasa into a defensive position and Armin into a salute. He leaned against the doorframe, a round platter of meat and cheese clasped tightly in his hands. “I don’t want to interrupt, but the brat needs to eat.” 

“Of course, Captain!” Armin squeezed Eren’s hand. “We’ll talk more soon, okay?” 

Mikasa crouched at his side as Armin left the room. “Please be careful, Eren.” It was only a whisper, but her tone grew more solemn as she said each word. 

“Yeah, I will be.” 

She turned and headed for the exit, pausing for a brief moment at the doorway, casting a cool glance over the captain. 

Eren had agreed to be careful, but he wasn’t sure what it was exactly that Mikasa wanted him to be careful of. He was back on the ship, back in his bed. His circumstances may have been risky, but as he glanced over Levi he felt a warmth spread through him, and he knew this was the safest place for him to be. 

“I don’t think your friend likes me.” Levi bolted the doors and headed for the bedside. He paused at his table to retrieve a dining set, then turned to Eren. “She’s a good friend, though. I’ve barely been able to get into my own damn keep—those two wouldn’t leave your side.” 

Eren looked at the man as he approached, hoping for a distraction from the uncoordinated beating in his chest. The captain was free of his coat and cravat, clad in a loose shirt tucked into his trousers. Eren’s gaze followed the scrapes and bandages up the man’s neck, to his face and those silver eyes. Upon further inspection, he noticed how sunken they were: red and swollen and unwilling to meet his. 

“Here,” Levi handed over the plate but hesitated to present the silverware, dropping the hand that gripped it to his side.

“I’ll take it,” he told him, and the other raised a brow at his proclamation, clearly thinking about how Eren had used his hands to eat when frustrated with the utensils so many times before. 

He reached for the setting, unfurled the cloth wrapped around it, then fumbled to position his hand correctly around the unnatural device. ‘Etiquette lessons’ hadn’t gone smoothly up until this point, but he felt determined to show the man that he could handle it now. It seemed Levi had assumed teaching him proper manners was impossible, but Eren couldn’t allow himself to be given up on. He stabbed at the meat strips, the fork clanking against the dish, and took the smallest bites he could manage, struggling to restrain himself from shoving all of the food into his mouth at once. 

Engrossed with his meal, he hadn’t noticed when Levi retreated to the side of his table: body rigid, muscles tense, staring blankly at the freshly stained (and scrubbed) rug dressing the floor. 

“Thank you, Captain.” Eren felt a new need arise once he’d satisfied his hunger—he needed Levi to acknowledge him. “For the food, I mean.” 

“No problem, kid.” 

His pulse tripped over that familiar nickname. He had loathed it from the start, his raging pride ensured that he would, but now he felt differently, somehow. It was what the captain called him; it was _theirs_ , intended only for _him._ Levi hadn’t budged otherwise, however, and Eren grew unsure of how else he could prompt him to. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he finally asked when the silence stretched on too long. 

“ _Wrong_ ?” The word was harsh as it left the captain’s lips, and an uneasiness grew within Eren. Levi’s welling eyes finally met his as the man pushed hard from table, lunging over where he sat on the bed. “I thought you were _dead_!” 

“I—I’m fine—”

“No! No you are not fine!” Levi turned, slamming his fist against the table as he cried the words. “You’ve been talking _nonsense_ for a week, you’re bedridden again—”

“I just need to rest!” 

Levi spun on his heel and flew back to the bed. He gripped the post beside the other’s head and leaned forward until their faces were only inches apart. “You are not allowed to die for me, kid.” 

“Levi, I—” 

“That’s a damn order.”

“I don’t follow your orders.” Eren returned after a moment, causing Levi’s head to tilt and his eyes to narrow.

“ _Excuse me_?” 

“You can’t order me around, I never volunteered for your crew!” Eren’s arms would have been over his head in frustration if he hadn’t felt a stab of pain at attempting the move. “You’re not my captain!” 

Levi backed away, eyes falling away from the other, and he sunk into the chair by the bed. He ground a fist into his temple and reached for his cravat, settling for his shirt collar when he found nothing there. 

“Alright, _brat_ , do you want off my ship then?” 

The question was one Eren had considered at each of his opportunities to escape. He had assumed he was a captive, that in order to leave he would have to throw himself from the deck or disappear unnoticed. There were plenty of moments he could have, of course, and he still didn’t understand why he hadn’t taken them. Part of him longed, more than anything, to return to the sea. It was the life he knew. It was natural, it was home. 

But there was nothing— _no one_ _—_ for him there.

“That’s not it....”

Levi’s lips parted, and Eren continued before he could interrupt. 

“I don’t want to leave. But… but you can’t expect me to just watch you die, Levi! I won’t listen to an order like that. I’m glad that I didn’t.” 

The captain’s fists moved to his knees as he leaned forward, but Eren cut him off again before he could speak. 

“I am! You saved me back then… you know that you did. I wanted to save you, too.” 

Levi’s expression relaxed as he heaved in a deep breath and sighed. “It’s not your job to protect me, kid.” 

“No, it’s not.” Eren reached for Levi, resting his hands on the other’s clenched fists. Even if only slightly, he felt the man relax beneath his touch. “But it was my choice to, and I don’t regret it.” 

Levi paled at the echo of the words he had spoken to the brunet weeks before. After moments passed, however, he leaned back in his chair and a faint smile tugged the corners of his lips. Eren smiled back, hoping he had gotten through to the other man. 

“Fine,” he finally said, though his tone remained unchanged. “I won’t tell you what to do, so long as you promise not to get yourself killed. Deal?” 

“I’ll try my best,” Eren said. 

“Tch, you’re really a pain in my ass.” 

“I think you like it.” 

He didn’t expect Levi’s eyes to shoot over him in shock or to experience the feeling that he had done something wrong—yet again. The other’s cheeks began to flush, and he turned away before Eren could see the bright color on his skin. 

“So… I talked in my sleep?” Eren knew he’d be mortified by any conversation from his choice of topic, but he didn’t care once Levi turned around—his blush in full view. 

“Heh,” Levi chuckled, a smile returning to the corners of his lips. “Names mostly.” 

Eren pushed down a lump in his throat, daring to ask, “whose?” 

“Your mother’s.” 

It was one he’d expected, but his chest still ached to know it was hers. Nightmares had grown fewer and far between in his time aboard the _Sinna_ , but unchecked—and under the influence of Hanji’s prescribed ‘ _medicine_ ’—they must have been ferocious. He dreaded to consider the effect his torment might have had on the man. 

“I’m sorry,” he began. “It’s been eight years since I last saw her, but she’s… always on my mind.” 

“Don’t apologize, Eren.” 

Their eyes met, and Eren felt the tension ease from his muscles. 

“There was an accident,” he continued, hoping to provide some sort of explanation to his unconscious behavior. “It was my fault. I never listened to her. I was just a kid back then, but...”

Levi launched forward out of the chair, arms extending in a swift motion to capture Eren. He nearly jolted at the touch, expecting pain or agitation from the wounds covering his body. But there was neither. Levi was comforting. He was familiar. Their skin touched, and Eren willed the sensation of peace to spread over the rest of him. Levi’s hands traveled across his back, up his neck, grazing through his thick hair. 

“You don’t have to explain anything.” 

Eren reached for the man’s hips, and he pulled him closer. He found comfort in his arms, a different kind than the comfort of Armin and Mikasa’s, and he wasn’t willing to lose it. Even if it was against Levi’s wishes, he’d protect the captain as well as he could— _however_ he could—because this was where he wanted to be: aboard the _Sinna_ with the captain. This was _home_. 

Eren leaned into Levi’s touch—hands still combing through his hair—and he shifted forward to press his forehead against Levi’s chest. 

“I understand, Eren.” 

He struggled to swallow down the stickiness in his throat, but Eren managed a nod in response. He didn’t want Levi to _understand_ _—_ he didn’t want him to feel anything similar to the guilt and the pain that he did himself. The man already had too much on his shoulders: the crew, the ship, those documents, his rivalry, and a clumsy bunkmate who had nearly died on him. 

Tears threatened Eren’s eyes as he looked to Levi and asked, “will you please rest?”

What the man did next surprised Eren, but he found himself enraptured, longing for more. Hands still threaded through the other’s hair, Levi leaned forward, closing his eyes, and pressed his lips against Eren’s forehead. 

Any tension left in his body disappeared. He focused only on Levi’s touch, the contact sending thrills zinging through his body. 

A shallow breath escaped Eren when Levi pulled back, but his weak arms weren’t strong enough to close the distance. He didn’t mean to groan when Levi left him completely to relocate the empty plate from Eren’s lap onto the table, but he also didn’t care that the sound had escaped him. He wanted the other man’s touch back on his skin. He wanted Levi.

“You need to move over, brat, if you want me to sleep with you so badly.” Amusement lingered in his tone, likely from noticing Eren’s fuming expression.

Levi cautiously shifted his weight onto the mattress, but the comfort of his arms wrapping around Eren’s body dulled any pain he had felt from being jostled. Levi’s hands relieved aches wherever they went, soothing as they swept up and down Eren’s back. Sleep would be easy like this, Eren was certain, and he was satisfied that he had finally managed to get the tireless captain into bed. 

Mind wandering over their conversation, he found himself more grateful for Levi’s presence than he had been for anyone before. He had saved him, yes, but there was something more about the man. It was for that reason that panic surged through him when he recalled Levi’s words. 

“Wait… You said _names_ , right? What others did I say?” 

A short string of laughter escaped Levi, his hands stilling on Eren’s body when he said: 

“ _Mine_.” 


	8. Son of No One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy update day! I hope you’re all doing well :,) We’re learning more about some other characters this week... but don’t worry! Our boys are still part of this chapter hue hue<3
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! Writing this fic is the only way I’m (barely) surviving the AOT manga updates, so it makes me really happy you guys enjoy it, too :,)
> 
> Usual stuff:  
> My ereri blog is chibi-eren on tumblr  
> My amazing betta(fish) is Sidereality
> 
> Enjoyyy, and see you next Sunday!<3

_“Death by drowning.”_

That was the capital punishment deemed appropriate for his crimes against the crown— _‘crimes’_ he hadn’t committed. The judge hadn’t been swayed by his pleas of innocence, so he figured the old brute must have been paid off along with the so-called ‘witnesses.’ It was obvious that he was being framed, so obvious that even the lowest of commoners could see it. But dawn was approaching, and with it faded any lingering chances of survival. 

He remembered following his mother past the executions as a boy, his hand clasped tight in hers. He remembered his feet tripping over one another in the sand when she pulled him close: away from the harbor with posts driven into its bank, away from the fallen marauders with wrists chained high above their heads, away from where he would now find himself come morning.

 _“Remember,”_ she would say. _“Be careful, little Jeanbo, you don’t want to end up like that.”_ It was a morbid practice, treated like a source of entertainment for the commoners, but Jean wasn’t one of those content with that explanation. He knew the grave truth of the matter: it was a tangible warning against piracy.

Beaten by the sun, most gave in to the ocean’s will and were swallowed by its crashing waves before high tide even set in. Those with enough luck (if one could call it that) to survive until nightfall were fated an even greater misfortune, for when darkness fell over the shallow banks, mer emerged from the depths, concealed from the view of humans in the shadows. 

A bloated body, chained and devoured in the harbor of his home. That was his fate—only newly officially given as a sentence, but one he’d carried since his birth. His mother would grieve for him, the pain only amplified once she was removed from their family residences. His father wouldn’t allow her to stay, there was no doubt about it, the whole debacle wouldn’t bode well for polishing his tarnished reputation. She’d be thrown out onto the streets, with no way to fend for herself against the outside world, and he would be forgotten. 

_A dead bastard meant none at all._

Distantly, growing closer, there was the sound of iron clanking rhythmically and methodically against the lattice of cell bars, catching on each one. _Clank. Clank. Clank._ Each subsequent beat pulled Jean from his reverie, and he strained his eyes in the dim, searching for the ‘musician’. A whistle drew his attention next, its happy tune a sharp sting in his ears, and his gaze shot to the shadow turning the corner. A soldier—tall and well built—moved leisurely through the hallway. He made his rounds through the prison unhurriedly, past the empty cells until he reached Jean’s. Then he stopped, but he didn’t turn to face the prisoner when he spoke. 

“Hey—uh, you’re Jean Kirstein, right?” the words were softly spoken, a little unsure. 

Knowledge of Jean’s name had grown exponentially with his notoriety in the few months since he’d earned it. Children of parliament officials weren’t often sentenced to death, convicted, or even _accused_ of crimes, for that matter. This man’s knowledge bore no reason for concern. 

“What of it?” he grunted, feigning interest in his fingernails and slouching even lower against the far wall of the brick cell. 

“Is it true what they say about your voyage to the colonies? You got everyone off a sinking ship?” The words were but a whisper under the man’s breath.

Jean sighed, the memory of his trial—and all its surrounding details—all too fresh in his mind. He shifted his attention from his hands to the ceiling, where droplets of water beaded and dripped in a steady pulse. The dingy prison must have been even more neglected than he’d initially thought; he couldn’t recall how much time had passed since the most recent rainfall. 

“Yeah, it’s true. But I didn’t know about the cargo. It was a set up.”

“Wow!” The soldier flung himself against the cell with a sudden excitement, hands curled around the rusted bars, and his bright eyes gleamed in the lantern light. He wore a smile that none of the other guards possessed, and Jean shivered at seeing someone so happy in a place as awful as his prison. “You’re incredible!” 

‘Incredible’ was far from an appropriate description. His first voyage had resulted in his coming execution, afterall, and there was nothing _incredible_ about that. It was supposed to be a test of his leadership, of the skills he’d refined for years to fulfill his father’s expectations. A storm and explosives had spoiled all of that, and now Jean was to be punished _—_ _drowned_ _—_ for deeming the lives of his crew more valuable than a shipment of sugarcane he didn’t even know was on board. 

Maybe he _was_ guilty. What a terrible crime he’d committed. 

“Bott!” A voice called from the far end of the hallway. “It’s time for shift change—bring those keys!” 

“Yes! Yes sir!” The soldier’s posture stiffened, a hand rising in salute to the officer Jean couldn’t see.

Jean expected the other to leave, to be gone as soon as he’d arrived, now that he’d satisfied his curiosity. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes to imagine a bright sky and open seas. He’d see it soon enough, even if chained against a post on the shore. 

He didn’t expect another iron clank, then a jingling of keys. The small noise seemed to echo through the prison like thunder, and when Jean’s eyes reopened to investigate, a breath caught in his throat, his gaze falling upon the soldier’s outstretched hand. 

“Listen, Jean,” the soldier whispered, that smile still spread wide across his face. “We don’t have much time, but—but I think we can make it to the docks before the next guard takes duty. I just need you to trust me.”

How could he trust someone employed to subdue him? Warnings screamed in Jean’s mind, overpowering even his most prominent desires to be free. His father was behind whatever trap this soldier was setting. It was another set up—it had to be. 

“What’s in it for you?” he nearly growled, forehead creasing as he stared forward.

The man inhaled sharply, and his eyes fluttered over every unoccupied inch of space in the cell, anywhere other than Jean. His pale cheeks flushed, and the color only grew deeper beneath glistening drops of sweat on his face. 

“Pa-Passage,” he stuttered after a few moments, wiping the sweat away with his unoccupied hand. “I need passage… somewhere.” 

The explanation wasn’t convincing in the least, but what else did he have to lose? Jean could be gunned down now, or he could be drowned later. A third option was unlikely, but maybe _—somehow_ _—_ if this man was genuine, if what he promised was true, he’d escape with his life. 

He sprung, making a decision in that instant, taking hold of the soldier’s palm to pull himself forward. 

Then they were out of the cell, and Jean laughed dozens of curses beneath his breath. He flanked the soldier, matching the man’s pace as they maneuvered the shadows through hallways of cells. Dim light was all that caught them, the shanties echoing through the prison a clear sign that the drinking had started early tonight. A gust of cool wind sent goose bumps flooding along his arms when they exited through a hefty door, and his eyes scanned the cobbled street for signs of danger. 

There were none. It was empty, deserted in the late night by those with enough power or sobriety to stop them. A rooster crowed in the distance, but its signal of morning—the morning that had terrified him for so long—couldn’t frighten him. Jean squeezed the hand in his grasp, and it squeezed back as the pair ran through the town until they reached the shore. 

Jean scanned the rows of ships docked along the harbor. The next part of the soldier’s assumed plan wouldn’t be an easy feat. The vessels were massive. Any would be difficult to board and would be even more impossible to sail with only the two of them. Jean was unable to focus on any of the varied shapes and sizes of the hulls, so caught up in searching for their best option because _something had to work._ He couldn’t have gotten this far just to be trapped on the beach. 

The soldier came to a quick stop, but Jean only realized it when his palm felt the unexpected absence of the other’s. He turned back, catching sight of where the man stood with one hand extended to his side in a flourish and the other running through his parted black hair. 

“This is it!” He piped, a deep blush returning to his cheeks. He motioned to the ship.

Well, it couldn’t be called a _ship_ exactly. 

She was ready for departure, sails unbound where they extended from a small frame. It was a humble craft, even for the poorest of fishermen, utterly unlike anything belonging to Jean’s father’s estate. He’d passed it by without a second glance. It was mundane, ordinary, _perfect_ for escaping the harbor. 

“Are you my guardian angel?!” Jean skipped forward, throwing a hand onto each of his companion’s shoulders, and shook the man as he sang, “I could kiss you!” 

“Oh!” the other giggled uneasily, his face flushing even further, a shade of red unlike any Jean had ever seen. “You’re welcome, I think!” 

Jean leapt from the dock, feet landing firm against the floorboards of the boat. It rocked in the water, nearly knocking him off balance, but he caught hold of the wheel and steadied himself. Its surface was rough beneath his fingers, the edges of splinters poking at his skin. Never had he expected to board such a meager thing, but a laugh escaped him because none of that mattered. Not anymore at least. He was free—no longer bound by the government or the expectations of his father—ready to escape onto open waters. He was spouting orders almost before he was aware of them leaving his lips, his short stunt as a captain ready to be extended, but no one replied. 

“What are you doing?” he asked the soldier, who still stood planted at the edge of the dock.

“Oh, I—um—I can’t sail,” he replied, tugging at the hem of his navy blue coat. “I barely enlisted a few months ago.” 

“So... you’re not coming?” 

He only shrugged. 

“What the hell did you risk your ass for then?” 

The soldier didn’t reply, unwilling to even look towards him. Despite not receiving an answer, Jean stepped forward, abandoning the wheel to extend his hand before speaking again.

“I trusted _you,_ so trust _me.”_

A moment passed, and he wasn’t sure that the soldier would accept whatever it was he was offering. But the corners of his mouth twitched, a ghost of that broad unfamiliar smile, one that now sent Jean’s heart skipping several beats. His limbs grew unsteady when he looked into those bright eyes, dazzling bits of pre-dawn light glimmering in their depths, and his mouth fell open when the other gripped his hand, sending sparks shooting through his entire body. He failed to keep his balance when the boat rocked yet again, the soldier having leapt into his arms.

His body smacked against the floorboards, and Jean was relieved the rickety boat didn’t completely give way beneath them. That relief lasted only a moment, however, for he soon became distracted by a different issue entirely. The man lay on top of him, their bodies pressed closely together under his weight, before he squealed a quick “sorry!” and scrambled back to his feet. Jean yanked the soldier to the back of the boat as soon as he’d recovered himself, trying to hide the flush spreading on his own face, and instructed him to hold the wheel steady. Then he double checked the sails, slinging ropes across his shoulders in preparation before he kicked off from the dock. 

Panic would only strike hours later when the executioners arrived to retrieve the prisoner, only to find an empty cell. By then, they’d be long gone. Jean cackled over the idea of it as morning light peeked on the edge of the horizon, the clouds in the sky painted a dozen rosy hues. “I owe you big time.” He turned from the front of the ship and made for his crewmate, whose fists were clenched tightly around the wheel. Resting his own hands over the other’s stiff knuckles, he continued, “take a break for a while.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he laughed, though fatigue oozed from his raspy voice now that the adrenaline of escape was fading. “This is nothing compared to being on duty.” 

Jean was a fool, he realized in that moment, having only thought of his companion as a member of the military or a means of escape since their introduction—or lack thereof—in the prison.

“I never asked your name,” he groaned, clenching his jaw and looking down at the rough-hewn wheel, attempting belatedly to make amends. 

He owed him something, alright, and something far more than gratitude washed over Jean when their eyes met once more. A gasp escaped his throat, and he couldn’t look away from those sparkling eyes, that smile that drove him mad, the freckles painted over his skin like dozens of early morning stars. 

“I’m Marco!” 

“Marco,” Jean repeated, the name falling softly from his lips. “So, where to?” 

“What?” 

“You needed passage, right? So where are we going?” 

“Oh! Right,” Marco laughed, looking over the open waters for a moment before turning back to Jean. “Anywhere.” 

\- - - 

He slouched against the side of the ship, squinting to see as the sunshine assaulted his senses. He knew he should have stayed below deck, and he cursed himself for having left the comfort of his bunk. The metal cup holding his meal—a sorry excuse for ‘stew’ made up by the quartermaster—reflected the light, stinging his abused eyes even more when he lifted it to his face to take a swig. Waking up today had been perhaps the greatest mistake of his life. 

“Whoooa!” a crewmember shrieked as she skidded over the floorboards, tripping over Jean’s outstretched legs having not seen him. 

“Hey, watch it!” he growled, though the newcomer paid him little notice. She held tight to a broom, rushing forward to bonk another stranger’s head. He didn’t recognize either of them—they must’ve been new recruits picked up in Tortuga. Elbows linked, the pair skipped to the bow, directing Jean’s attention to the scene that was unfolding.

The captain dropped from a sail at the front of the ship, followed shortly after by Mikasa. Their bodies twisted and lunged, their blades clashed. They were a flurry of motion in the distance, neither willing to retreat from the other’s swift movements. Jean surged to his feet, abandoning his meal to join the gathering crowd in hopes of a better view. _No one_ challenged the captain, yet now someone had—and for it to be Mikasa? He ended up smack dab between the two new crewmates he hadn’t recognized, who were busy chanting ridiculous choruses in the battle’s direction. 

“Go, Mikasa, go!” the girl howled. 

“You can get him today, Mikasa!” the boy joined her. 

He knew it’d been weeks since he’d left his bunk—sending plunder to his mother wasn’t even motivation enough to perform his duties since their recent battle—but he couldn’t fathom the sudden shift in the _Sinna’s_ atmosphere. From an orderly crew to a sword fight, and people were… cheering? What the hell was going on?

He’d said that out loud, apparently, because the boy grabbed his shoulder, eyes wide as he screamed: “They’re fighting, _obviously!_ It’s _incredible!”_

He ignored the familiar word. ‘Incredible’ didn’t mean anything. 

“That’s not it, Connie!” The girl chuckled as she grabbed Jean’s other arm, yanking him in her direction. “They’re _training!_ And once Mikasa gets the edge on him, the captain promised to buy us fresh meat!”

He gaped at the pair and their overenthusiasm, their arms both looped over his shoulders as they resumed their cheers. 

“Cheer her on with us!” the girl screeched again, strings of saliva dripping from her gaping mouth. “Think about the meat! Maybe Captain will even throw in some potatoes!” 

“Take it easy, Sasha,” Connie groaned, turning to his companion with an amused expression. “You know this is why they all call you _potato-girl,_ right?” 

_Potato-girl._ The words echoed in Jean’s mind, but they were spoken in another’s voice. Jean teetered, feeling himself grow ill beneath the beating sun, choking for breath that wasn’t there, swallowed by the relentless waves of a truth he couldn’t escape. Hands clenched into fists at his sides, shaking rapidly as he ignored the pair bantering next to him.

“Hey pal,” Sasha leaned back into him, and Connie mimicked her motion. “You okay, buddy? 

He wasn’t. How could he be? His attempt of returning to normalcy had gone as poorly as he’d anticipated. All it lacked was—

“Eren!” Connie fled from his side in an instant, completely relinquishing his grip on Jean to Sasha (who struggled to keep them both upright as he staggered, even more unbalanced). 

The suicidal idiot approached, the blond swab at his side. There was no reason to acknowledge either of them, so Jean ignored the tilt of Armin’s head, his uneasy expression, the concern obvious in his round eyes. 

“Hey guys,” Eren started, the ease in his voice tormenting Jean. “How long have they been going for?” 

“Just a few minutes!” Sasha rang out, releasing her grip on Jean’s shoulder. “When are you gonna get in there, Eren? I bet you guys could take the captain down two-against-one!” 

“You really think so?” he chuckled, a palm running over the back of his head. His eyes drifted through the crowd to where the pair fought, lighting up as the rest of his face grew a light shade of red. “I don’t know about that. I’ve still got some time before I’m fully recovered, and Levi is extraordinary.” 

“So are you!” Connie assured him, reworking the wrap covering his bald head after having unintentionally yanked it off in excitement. “You took on the commander! I’ve never seen anything like it!” 

“Me neither!” Sasha rallied, the both of them approaching Eren eagerly to the point that he had to step back, hands spread placatingly between them.

“It really wasn’t like that—” 

Jean hadn’t intended to laugh, but he also didn’t care to stop. His cackles grew more violent with each passing moment, so much so that he had to grip his stomach to center himself. Tears welled in his eyes—he hadn’t realized there were any left—as he looked at the others’ bemused expressions, calming his hysterics with a string of shallow breaths. 

Sasha and Connie stood there, their mouths agape and eyes even wider than before. Armin’s hand covered his mouth, a second one latched to Eren’s arm to hold him back. The idiot was fuming, his face flushed and fists balled at his sides. Jean had been numb, but _finally_ he felt something—immeasurable satisfaction at Eren’s ridiculous reaction. 

“What’s your deal, man?” Connie broke the silence. “Didn’t you see what—” 

“See _what?”_ Jean interrupted, arms akimbo. “This idiot throwing himself at a gun _pointed in the air?_ Yeah, I saw it. If you wanted out that bad, you should’ve just jumped overboard, Eren.”

“It was aimed at the captain!” Connie protested, but Jean wasn’t interested in whatever fantasy they’d come up with to make the idiot feel better about himself. He’d still been competent then, and he knew what he’d seen. 

“Not until this dumbass yanked on the commander’s arm!”

“You shouldn’t talk to the first-mate like that,” Sasha chimed in, her voice low enough only for them to hear it. Jean fell further into his pit of despair. The captain had never chosen a first-mate; it was an opportunity he didn’t know had existed. 

His eyes flickered to the fight still going at the front of the deck, finding that the combatants had slowed as they climbed another sail. Mikasa followed the captain up the post, and when he reached the top of it first, Levi scanned the crowd, gaze locking onto Eren.

So _that’s_ what was going on. 

“Yeah, Eren was really brave!” 

Jean let out another shrill laugh, nails digging deeper into his palm. “Brave? You think this guy is brave?!”

“Brave enough to take you on, _bastard!”_

Jean lunged at Eren before the other could come at him first, his body springing into action without waiting for his mind to grant permission. He was ready for their second bout; the idiot didn’t even know what he’d just said, what he’d assumed, what was _correct,_ so Jean would be more than satisfied sending him back to bed rest to make up for it. But said idiot would probably like that—Jean realized in the second before his fist made contact, when it was almost too late—because then he’d be free to spend as much time in the captain’s quarters as he wanted. 

Though _obviously_ he already did.

A palm hit his chest, stopping him from getting any closer to Eren as Armin shoved himself between them. “Stop it!” he yelled, “can’t you guys just _talk?!”_

“Not to a _swab_ like you!”

Jean turned, ready to retreat to his bunk for the day (for forever, really), but a fist caught his mouth, and he went down. _Mikasa must have—_ but it wasn’t her. Eren stood over him, a deep crease between his brows forming while his body shook with palpable anger. “Apologize to Armin!” 

“Eren!” Ah, _there_ she was, abandoning her training to intervene for the two little boys she insisted on protecting. Mikasa pulled the idiot back before he could throw another swing Jean’s way. “You’re going to rip your stitches out!” Of course, to her, _Eren_ was the victim here.

“Apologize!” he thundered again, ignoring her warning and attempting to free himself of her grip.

Jean strode away, pretending he wasn’t involved in the commotion, even when he heard the captain address them all from behind. He didn’t give a damn anymore—not about his duties, his orders, none of the crew. Nothing mattered anyway. He wiped a drop of blood from his mouth, surprised to find that the idiot had actually caused damage, and retreated below deck. 

\- - - 

He went to take another swig from the bottle, only to find that it was empty. The idea of sneaking another from the storeroom was tempting, but he’d decided to avoid everyone for the rest of his life. He’d escaped his bunk as neighbors filed in, crowding the space around him, and there was no way he’d head back down there now. Not when the breeze was so cool and the night so inviting—a small comfort even in the worst of times. He leaned over the ship’s edge and stared toward the water. It was a long way down, little chance of survival. Even less when you took into account the dangers beneath. 

Lost in the waves crashing below, he hadn’t realized that another had approached. 

“Hey,” Armin’s voice trembled as he joined Jean and leaned his elbows on the gunwale. “The captain wants everyone below deck for the night.” 

“No way in hell.” Jean raised the bottle to his lips, finding that—once again—it was still empty. Armin was smart, but if he noticed the state of the bottle he chose to spare Jean and didn’t mention it. He pretended he’d taken a large gulp of the imaginary liquid, anyway. He even shuddered at its absent taste. 

Fingers tightened around the bottle’s neck, and then he flung it away. It disappeared, swallowed by the sea without a sound as soon as it reached the surface. It was a long way down, definitely not survivable. He closed his eyes, ignoring the obvious. 

“You’ve been different,” Armin broke the silence. “I—I don’t want to assume why.” 

“Then don’t.” 

Armin sighed before presenting an untouched apple. “Here, you need to eat. You haven’t finished a meal in days, Jean.” 

He was right. Alarmingly observant, but right. Jean took the apple from the other’s hands, tossing it back and forth between his own before biting into it. Though sweet juice burst on his dry tongue, Jean confirmed that his taste buds were still dulled.

“I’m not a swab anymore, you know,” Armin stated, the pride dripping from his tone unlike anything Jean had heard from the blond before. “Sasha and Connie, you have to torture them now.” 

He didn’t bother finishing chewing his bite, bits of crushed apple falling from his mouth as he asked, “what?” 

“Yeah!” Armin raised his chin toward the night sky, a short laugh escaping him. “I’m the quartermaster’s new assistant, so _technically_ I outrank you.” 

“Technically,” Jean repeated, but he knew that none of that mattered anymore. He sighed as he tossed the apple core, listening for the sound of it hitting the water. “...I’ve been an ass.”

“You have been,” Armin agreed amiably. 

“I’m sorry.” Knuckles turned white where they squeezed into fists at his sides.

“Are you apologizing because Eren told you to?” 

“No!” He was apologizing because that’s what _he_ would have wanted. 

_‘Incredible…’_

He was still far from what that bright eyed soldier first thought of him. 

Jean sighed again, turning to get a better look at the waves crashing below them. He bit back the sob working its way up his throat by closing his eyes. A finger pushed hard against his temple when he spoke again, his other hand pointing to the water. 

”You’re smart, Armin. What are the odds of surviving down there?” 

“Not... great.” Jean had already known the answer, of course he had, but he still shivered in response. Armin moved closer and rested a hand on the other’s back, patting gently in an attempt to comfort him. “But a disappearance doesn’t mean he went overboard, and going overboard doesn’t mean—” 

Jean pulled away. The malice in his voice was not his intention. “Mean _what?_ That he drowned? Or that he was eaten?!” 

“Neither.” Armin retained a face of calm, shrugging. “The navy takes prisoners, Jean. You shouldn’t—you shouldn’t assume that…” 

The military might take prisoners, but no one else—the sea or its monsters—did.

“What, Armin?” He asked when the other didn’t continue. “What is it?” 

“The world is different than we think,” Armin admitted, shaking his head. 

“Do you know something?! Do you know what happened to—” 

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!” Hanji emerged from the back of the ship, flying from the quarterdeck’s stairs with her arms flailing over her head. She rushed toward the pair and, when she reached them, yanked an ear on each of them. “Assistant Quartermaster Arlert, my instructions were very clear!” 

“Yes! I’m sorry ma’am!” Armin stammered as she dragged the two of them to the opposite side of the deck. 

Jean’s head scraped against the hatch as Hanji shoved them down its steps. Though he’d refused to go below deck willingly before, he knew better than to fight her. He tripped down the stairs, thudding hard against the damp floorboards on his stomach when he reached the bottom. Then he was crushed under Armin who had apparently done the same. Laughter rang through the rows of bunks, but he could barely hear them over the groans escaping him and the blond. 

“Listen up, you lot!” Hanji proclaimed after locking the hatch. Armin attempted to get up and make space between himself and Jean, but the woman placed a heel onto his back, shoving him back down. “No one is going up there until _I say so!_ Do I make myself clear?!” 

The breath he’d just taken wheezed out of Jean’s lungs beneath the other’s weight. Through the laughter that followed, he heard Armin whine out a strained, “sorry.” 

The assembled crew made a series of affirmative noises in response, but Hanji crouched beside the pair at her feet when neither responded. “I _said:_ do I make myself clear, boys?” 

“Yes ma’am!” Jean shrieked while Armin tried performing a salute. 

“Great!” Hanji leapt over them and danced toward her study, finally allowing the pair to gather themselves up from the floor. “This’ll be the best night of the captain’s life!” 


	9. The Guiding Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh hello! Sorry for the late(r) update, school absolutely killed me this week ;-; It’s still *technically* Sunday though, so happy update day! 
> 
> Thank you for reading this story and for the comments/kudos! It means so so much :,) <3 
> 
> Usual things:  
> My ereri blog is chibi-eren on tumblr  
> My super awesome and encouraging beta is Sidereality <3 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter, I’ll see you guys next week!

“Nice night, isn’t it?” 

Levi leaned against the railing on the back of the quarterdeck, eyes trained on the cigar in his hands, and attempted to ignore Hanji as she scampered up the stairway. He pulled his distraction close, hands protecting it from the chill sea breeze. 

“Is the anchor dropped?” 

“Yes sir! All has gone according to plan.” 

“Then what do you want, shitty glasses?”

“Some of _that_ _,_ for sure!” The brunette lunged forward for the cigar, but he wasn’t about to let her have any. That is, until he noticed the dirt staining her unwashed hands as they flew towards his face. 

Hanji cackled upon claiming the prize, then she lifted it to her mouth for a deep inhale. Instantly the peace of the night was shattered by an erratic explosion of hacking coughs and shrieks. She pounded her chest repeatedly and scraped at her tongue with those dirty hands. _Disgusting._ Levi had grown accustomed to her manic behavior over the years, but this was not the night for it. Not when _that_ was on his mind. Not when they were so close.

The wild quartermaster flung the cigar off the ship’s side; in an instant it had disappeared, pulled under by the waves, lost to the sea— 

_Stop._

He shook his head to make the thoughts go away, jerking free of the clawing grasp trying to keep him under, tangled in those very ocean depths. Then he turned from the woman, more than desperate to put space between himself and the sprays of saliva from her uncontrollable hacking. He hoped the distraction of her needing to catch her breath would allow for his escape, but given how the night was going, he had to, of course, be poorly mistaken. Hanji shifted all of her attention to him in an instant, grabbing hold of him in her notorious headlock to yank him close.

“You’re not leaving yet, grouchy!” 

“I’m the captain of this ship,” Levi growled, considering the tried and true method of stomping on her toe. “I’ll do as I please.” 

“You may be the captain, but I’m your right hand!” 

“Hanji—”

“Oh, come on! Don’t be such a—”

“Get off of me!” 

Her words stopped abruptly, Levi’s hands wrapping tight around her wrists—he yanked her off him like a leech and _pushed_ without thinking. Hanji didn’t catch herself, and she stumbled, hitting the deck. 

The silence lingered, broken only by the sound of waves against the nose of the ship. He stood motionless, shoulders tensed and fists clenched at his sides, gaze trained on the floor. _Shit._ His sense of control was crumbling, and if the dam broke, the flood would devastate everything in its wake. He couldn’t allow that to happen. 

“Fine,” Hanji said flatly, her voice strangely muted without the ever-present enthusiasm coloring her words. She didn’t look at him as she stood up, straightening the crooked frames of her glasses on her nose, and brushed absent dust from her trousers. The aching in his chest only burned more when she finally did look his way. “You’re ‘ _the captain_ ,’ so go on! Push us away even more if that’s what you want.” 

“That’s not what’s going on.” Levi’s eyes studied the floorboards, meandering listlessly over the grime worn into the planks underfoot, trying to ignore the fact that he _knew_ he was avoiding the issue. He tried to ignore everything—especially Hanji, since she knew the truth of it.

“Really, _Captain_?” She spat, stepping toward him with her hands on her hips. 

“That’s what I said, Hanji.” 

“Levi,” she sighed, and at that, her stern tone melted away to concern. She reached out, and after a brief moment of hesitation, rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve been sailing in circles for _days_. The nests are straight ahead, and I can tell it’s getting to you. It’s obvious, actually! I mean, when was the last time you smoked?!” 

“I’m fine,” he lied. It wasn’t very convincing.

“Even so,” said Hanji, resting a foot against the rail. “It’s not too late to turn back.”

That wasn’t an option. 

“We can’t— _I can’t_... I owe it to them.” 

“Actually, you owe it to them to keep yourself alive.” The familiar brilliance of her smile was almost enough to make him believe the fantasy. “Alive and... well, _happy_ might be a nice touch.” 

Almost. But not quite. 

“One more day,” he said under his breath, turning away from her. “One more day, then we’ll sail for the nests.” 

“Hmmm... Is there a specific reason for delaying our imminent doom, my friend?” 

“The kid needs—” 

“ _Eren_ ,” she corrected him. “ _Eren_ needs...?” 

“To get his stitches removed, you shit.” He palmed at his hair, suddenly aware of how disheveled Hanji’s attack had left him. 

“Ahh! How could I have forgotten? That pretty little gem of yours really knows how to get into trouble!” 

“You could say that.” 

“Oh ho ho, I could say _plenty_ of things!” 

“Fuck you.” With a roll of his eyes, Levi turned to leave. Hanji, seemingly gone through every human emotion in the time she’d been on the quarterdeck, now lapsed into a screeching fit of laughter. 

“Fuck _me?_ Save that for Eren!” Hanji caught his arm, swinging him back toward her with full robust force. “And don’t leave yet! Unless of course if you’re heading to see him, which in that case, go! Oh Levi, did you notice when he—” 

“No,” Levi snapped. “Quit stalking him.” 

“I’m his doctor! What else am I supposed to do for fun around here?” 

“Obsess over your own bunkmate—you’ll make Petra jealous.”

“Will not!” She squeezed Levi’s shoulder and crouched until they were face to face, biting at the smile forming on her lips. “We all know the rules: the _finest_ treasure goes to the _captain_.” 

“Piss off.” He shook free of her grasp (again), determined to make his way to the privacy of his keep. But Hanji’s laughter howled close behind him, and then she flung herself over his body... _again_. 

“My dearest Captain Levi!” She ruffled his hair (which he had just barely managed to get back under control). The urge to stomp her toe flat into the floor until she learned her lesson was growing stronger. “You’re not denying anything, so may I assume that I’ve been correct all this time?” 

“Dammit Hanji.” He stepped back from her, heading to the front of the quarterdeck overlooking the ship. After a few shallow breaths, he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the railing of the veranda, the stars glittering down on his bowed back as he worked to still his tremors. He knew to expect Hanji, as she never missed an opportunity to comfort him in her own special way, but the gentle touch of her hand on his back still startled him. 

“Levi—” 

“It doesn’t _matter_ if you’re right or not.” His voice was clipped, the words gritted through tightly clenched teeth. He persuaded himself that the emotion behind them was strength, but Hanji offered little reassurance.

“Why exactly is that?”

_“What?”_

“Why, Levi, do you insist that how you feel doesn’t matter?” He lifted his head to look at her, not knowing how to answer. She’d never been so bold as to address him like this. “At least think of how Eren feels—he took a bullet for you, after all.” 

Levi didn’t need reminding. 

The shot wouldn’t have hit. Erwin’s warning signals never did. It was the same old story, the same method he always used when boarding ships. Levi knew that, but Eren was new _—_ _innocent_ _—_ to the ways of war. He didn’t know what to expect from the commander, and Levi cursed himself for leaving the kid on his own, for throwing him headfirst into the life they lived, like a child being thrown into water and expected to know how to swim. 

Taking him on as a first-mate had seemed like an easy way to begin making up for it. It was an unnecessary attachment, of course, but Levi already found himself attached to Eren in greater ways, and he would do _anything_ to prevent _that_ _—_

“Don’t you find it strange?” He interrupted the train of his own thoughts and took a step away from Hanji, mourning the absence of his drowned cigar in the dark water as he trailed a hand along the rail. At the back of his mind, he wondered what the mer did with human things that fell into the ocean. The idea of one blowing bubbles out of the end of a cigar was so bizarre he didn’t know what to think. Surely it wouldn’t be the most fantastical thing to happen—peculiar events were common on the open seas, but he still found himself perplexed over how Eren had gotten back onto the ship. “Twelve years of sailing, I’ve never seen anyone survive something like that.” 

“Ahem,” Hanji cleared her throat. “I know you don’t like to talk about that night… but Erwin did.” 

“That’s different,” he retorted, turning back to her. “Erwin _dove_ into the water, he didn’t fall.” 

“Regardless,” Hanji came close again, placing a gentle palm to his cheek. “Eren is okay, and now he’s waiting for you downstairs. Be thankful for that.” 

_Thankful_. 

“Like I said, it’s a nice night—isn’t it?” She pinched his cheek affectionately, and he accepted the gesture before remembering her dirty hands. Then she spun on her heel, heading towards the stairs, tossing a jaunty: “I’d say it’s perfect for plundering _treasure,_ wouldn’t you agree?” 

Levi didn’t answer her questions aloud, but he knew the answers to them.

“Hanji, wait,” he caught her attention before she reached the bottom of the steps. “Clear the deck for the night.” 

“Already done, Captain!” She winked and disappeared across the deck, but he heard her raise her voice to yell at the crew just moments later. 

Levi inhaled deeply, trying to settle the nerves welling inside of him. He knew what that wink meant. He knew what Hanji wanted him to do. He knew that it was what he wanted, too. That brat had haunted his every thought since their first meeting, and it drove him mad to think of him downstairs, alone in the keep, lying in his bed. 

He ran his fingers along the staircase’s rail, smooth and polished and so different from the one on the first ship they’d sailed upon. A cool breeze tickled his skin, and he tilted his chin up to gaze at the clear skies. Hanji was at least right about one thing—it _was_ a nice night—and so he headed for the treasure. 

\- - -

Fingers threaded through his hair, twirling loose locks around calloused skin and rubbing soothingly at his scalp. He relished in the feeling, keeping his eyes closed and his breathing carefully even so as to not alert the other that he was awake. Any sign of consciousness and Levi would stop, freeing himself of their interwoven limbs and acting as if he hadn’t been laying in Eren’s arms just a moment before. Back to work, back to the crew, back to acting like they were nothing but a captain and his first-mate. 

Maybe that was the truth. 

Each morning had followed the same frustrating routine, and Eren was determined to break the pattern. He just had to convince the other man to actually sleep, first. He arranged the quilts in what he thought was an artful fashion, repositioning himself and the pillow time and again, definitely overthinking the act of lying horizontal. There needed to be enough space for Levi to crawl onto it, to curl his body close against his. That damned chair couldn’t be thought of as an alternative. 

But Levi couldn’t _know_ that. Eren’s intentions couldn’t be so obvious. So he readjusted again: one knee up, an arm behind the head, _make sure you look natural._

He never did. 

He groaned, feeling despair rise from deep within his chest, and rolled over on the lumpy pillows. The damn things were getting in his way. He knelt there dejectedly and looked down at them: fluffing them would be helpful, but instead he tipped forward and buried his face in one, his groan muffled by the feathers.

“Trying to get me into bed again, brat?” 

Every muscle in Eren’s body went stiff, and his stomach curdled at hearing the man’s words. He was suddenly all too aware of his surroundings: the firmness of the mattress beneath his knees, the softness of the pillow where he’d mashed his face into it, the fact that he literally _had his ass in the air like a present_. Slowly, absolutely dreading what he’d see, he turned his head on the pillow. His eyes went to the keep’s entrance, his face growing unbearably hot, and he lunged out of his compromising position as soon as he saw Levi leaning against the doorframe: arms crossed, brow raised, a smirk spreading on his lips. 

“That’s not what—I was just!” 

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve got other plans for us tonight, kid.” Eren gawked as Levi strode across the room, heading for his glossy trunk. “Meet me outside.”

“ _Outside?”_

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Levi chuckled softly, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be right there, I have something for you.”

What more did the man have to give? He’d already provided safety, shelter, and… _whatever_ it was that was going on between them. Each moment apart only escalated his desire for Levi’s presence, his companionship, his touch — gentle yet intent — grazing over his skin. But now he wasn’t even going to get _that_ tonight.

Plan thwarted, Eren headed out of the keep. He brushed aside the spare quilt nailed to the doorframe (their makeshift door until Eld and Gunther could purchase a replacement the next time they docked on land). A cool breeze wafted the scent of salt to him, and he scanned the deck, bemused to find it completely and uncharacteristically vacant. 

No one was leaning against the gunwale enjoying the night breeze with company, no one was drinking or dancing merrily, no one was climbing the rigging or working up high amongst the black sails. It was silent, empty, so different from a typical night aboard the _Sinna_ , and he felt his crewmates’ absence. 

Humans were not to be trusted. They were monsters. They cared only for fulfilling their own desires and ruthless ambitions. These lessons had been ingrained in his mind since he was young, since he’d found refuge at the tide pools with his mother after the pod had been slaughtered and left them defenseless. He knew the warnings were true of those who dwelled on land—he’d experienced the consequences of ignoring them. 

But he’d experienced more than just that. Those on the _Sinna_ were different. Armin was a genius and Mikasa was brave; both were almost _too_ loyal, having dedicated their lives to finding him, a child who would grow up to become one of the monsters their species reviled. Hanji might have been terrifying in her own way, always flinging herself on him and asking _way_ too many questions—but she’d kept his secret and proven she was trustworthy and kind. Even the new crew members surprised him; they were bright and unpredictable and encouraging, even back when they’d barely even known each other. 

Then there was Levi. 

“You hardly made it out the door, kid.” A hand caught his, sending the pace of his heart into a frenzy. “Or the curtain, rather.” Levi said, flicking the makeshift entrance with a knuckle, setting it gently flapping. 

Their hands remained intertwined as Levi led him to the shipside, not even parting when they leaned against the gunwale to gaze at the water. Waves rolled slow and steady below them in the velvet darkness, shimmering specks of moonlight twinkling like liquid stars on the swells of water. It was captivating. Beautiful, almost, and so unlike the vicious sea Eren had battled so recently. It was nearly enough to lure him into its trap, sweet memories of being a child, swimming through gentle waters with his mother arising in his mind. But the man beside Eren commanded his gaze, his silver eyes fixed on their clasped hands. 

“Levi?” Eren felt uneasy as he spoke, though he couldn’t place whether it was because of his proximity to the ocean or because his strong, stoic captain was shaking. With a stroke of his thumb over Eren’s knuckles, Levi dropped their hands, every place their skin had met suddenly bare in the night. Eren felt the loss keenly in an aching surge of yearning for the other man’s touch. His mouth opened to speak, to request that he take him back, but Levi whispered instead:

“You scared the shit out of me, you know.” 

After a moment of uncertainty, Eren confessed, “I didn’t think you were afraid of anything,” and he meant it. Levi was the strongest man he’d met, the strongest of _anyone_ he’d ever known. His very presence demanded respect from the other humans. He was fearless and strong and— 

“Of course I am,” Levi stated plainly, his hand reaching forward, trailing up Eren’s chest to the crook between his shoulder and neck. He grazed the thick bandages that concealed Eren’s (nonexistent) bullet wound. “I couldn’t stop this from happening to you, and that terrifies me.”

“You didn’t have to stop anything.” Eren’s hand joined Levi’s, pulling it to the center of his chest. His heart, beating erratically, seemed like it was trying to make its way out of his chest with each heavy thump. “We’ve been over this already—I make my own decisions. It’s not up to you to protect me.” 

“That’s why,” Levi tensed, releasing Eren to pull something from inside his coat. “I want you to protect yourself.” 

Every hair on Eren’s body stood when his eyes fell upon the pistol. Levi was different from other humans, he assured himself, but the golden embellishments spiraling over the oak still made a ghostly pain shoot through the shoulder where his wound should have been. He couldn’t separate the sight of the elegant weapon from his memory of the commander: gun aimed, finger grazing its trigger, the metal burrowing deep into his flesh. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. 

“This served me well for some time.” Levi said, passing the gun between his hands before handing it to Eren. Then a palm pressed against his back, straightening his posture with the same confident swiftness Levi used in battle. The man traced down Eren’s arm, the touch sending goosebumps over his skin, wrapping his fingers around the weapon. 

“Take a deep breath,” Levi whispered, adjusting Eren’s arm to point it over open waters at the empty horizon. A second hand steadied his waist, and a warm breath drew attention to how close Levi’s face was to the back of his neck. “Focus on the end of the barrel, and when you’re ready…” 

There was a loud _crack_ when he pulled the trigger, a roar of noise cutting through the otherwise peaceful night. The force of it pushed Eren back, but Levi steadied him, ensuring he wouldn’t fall. The thrill rushing through his body was not something Eren had expected from this experience, but he lost control of himself as he laughed in exhilaration, handling the pistol carelessly when he turned around.

“Calm down!” Levi quickly disarmed Eren, dusting powder from the still-warm muzzle. Then he opened the other’s coat and tucked it safely into an inner pocket before giving a final tap to Eren’s chest introspectively. “Not so bad on the other end of it, eh?” 

His low chuckle was carried away by the breeze, allowing silence to reign over the night once more, and Eren bit back a whine when Levi stepped away from him to gaze back over the side of the ship. 

He guessed guns weren’t so bad, not really. Taking the shot had excited him. It was something he had never experienced before, something he had never even thought of experiencing. But despite the exhilaration, he couldn’t get past the memory of the battle, especially not with an identical weapon burning a hole through his pocket. 

“Next time,” Eren began with tight fists clenching at his sides. “The commander won’t get the best of me.” 

Levi’s brow raised as he turned to face Eren, crossing his arms and releasing a sigh. “Don’t drown yourself in revenge, kid.”

_What the hell was that supposed to mean?_

“I know what happened, but Erwin isn’t a bad man. At least, he wasn’t when I sailed with him.” 

Hearing of a connection between the two, one that was more than just rivalry, distracted Eren from the fact that Levi had just _defended_ the commander. His mouth fell open, his forehead creasing as dozens of questions — _accusations_ _—_ sprung into his mind. He wanted to demand answers, to force whatever secrets Levi had kept out of him, but Eren was only able to vocalize one question: “ _what?”_

“Shit, kid.” Levi placed a hand on his hip, a laugh escaping at Eren’s dumbfounded expression. “I was certain Hanji would have told you my life story by now.” 

“You—you were in the navy?!” 

“Yes.” He flicked at his fingers as if they were somehow more pressing than the current conversation. “I just gave you my military-issued weapon, didn’t I?” 

“You kept something like that?!” The weight in his chest pocket suddenly grew heavier. 

“It's a memento.” He shrugged, and Eren’s bewilderment must have shown, prompting him to explain the unfamiliar word. “A type of treasure.”

_What was it with pirates and their ‘treasure?’_

“Eren.” Some of the tension released from his shoulders when Levi said his name, but Eren couldn’t bring himself to look at the man. How could he after discovering something like _this?_ There was a steady pressure on his shoulder—he had been so distracted by the questions whirling through his mind that he hadn’t noticed Levi’s touch. “It was a long time ago. I’ve not sailed with the navy in years, and I don’t intend to again.”

Eren followed numbly when Levi’s hand tugged at his, and they headed towards the quarterdeck’s stairs. This new information changed _everything—_ didn’t it? He was a member of the navy. The navy hired the rippers. The rippers—

He silenced the memories raging through his mind, gripping tight to the rail of the stairway as he ascended instead. This changed everything, but... he didn’t want it to. 

“I was young,” Levi continued when they reached the top, leading Eren to the back of the ship. “I never wanted to enlist, but I didn’t have a choice. I just... wanted to protect my family.” 

Eren might have jumped overboard right then—if it wasn’t Levi, if it wasn’t for this revelation. The man’s fractured tone sent aches through Eren when he stumbled over the last word: _‘Family.’_ He mourned for his own still; he thought of his mother each day, and the others, too, who had been lost long before to rippers or to the sea. Levi’s reasoning for the atrocities he might have committed in the military, his _family_ , was something Eren understood.

“Kenny?” He asked, recalling Levi’s grotesque uncle. 

“No,” the captain scoffed, releasing an exasperated breath when he turned back to Eren. “Kenny is a piece of shit.” 

Relief fell over Eren, hearing that.

“I wouldn’t be here without him, though,” he continued, a low chuckle following after. “He helped us out a lot back then. Most ships throw unwanted cargo overboard, but Kenny knew we’d have a purpose.” Levi’s chin raised to the sky, light glossing over the silver of his eyes as a faint smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

“Levi?” Eren leaned in closer to the other man. The other’s gaze fell from the sky, light still flickering over his silver eyes when they met Eren’s. “Who is ' _us'_?” 

He regretted the words as soon as they left him. Levi’s smile disappeared, his face paling as his lips quivered. He looked away from Eren, one hand rising to his temple while the other steadied himself on the rail. Turning to the ocean, he stared out into the endless dark, refusing to look at his companion. 

“My crew,” he said softly. “My _first_ crew.”

His body erupted into uncontrollable quakes, and Eren thought of the shaking fit he had witnessed the night of the recruitment party in Tortuga. Levi blindly reached for his side, only to be met with empty air where his blades were typically latched, so Eren met it with his own. Levi jolted when their hands intertwined, his gaze fleeing back to his first mate.

 _This_ was what terrified Levi. Whatever had happened, and _whoever_ it had happened to, was the reason for the pain now lining his face. How was Eren to apologize for making him feel this way? He cursed himself and his uncontrollable curiosity for questioning the man. Mustering up an apology, he was caught off guard when Levi spoke. 

“They were my family,” he said, his tone absent of the shakiness it had possessed moments before. “We took care of one another.”

Something came over Eren as his captain’s gaze dropped to the floor once more. Comforting the man was now his only desire, and he thought of how Levi had done so before for him. Then he inched closer, spreading his fingers through the other’s smoky hair, sheltering his body with his own, and pressed his lips gently against Levi’s temple. 

Levi did not startle as Eren had expected. His tremors subsided, and Eren felt arms wrap around his waist, pulling them closer into each other. He held on tightly to the man, his resilient captain, hoping that in some way he had understood what he meant by the action.

“I’m sorry,” Eren whispered. 

“I didn’t bring you out here to kiss me all night.” Levi said, amusement lingering in his tone. Then he backed away, mouth pulling into another soft smile, and he motioned for Eren to do the same as he sat on the deck.

“Tsk.” His fingers swiped through a line of dirt on the floorboards, and he pinched away the filth in disappointment. “Those new swabs are shit.” 

“You think everything is shit!” Eren laughed, arms rising over his head to stretch his full length, and Levi leaned in, resting his head against his shoulder. He didn’t pull away, so Eren wrapped an arm around him. Then he froze, half-expecting the man to scold him for the unwarranted touch, but instead Levi all but melted into his side. 

Then he huffed, resting a hand on top of Eren’s bent knee and raising his other to extend a finger toward the skies above. “There, that’s why we’re out here,” he said. It was the brightest point of light in the sky, an incomparably vivid glow amongst the dull pinpricks of the others. 

“The guiding light,” Eren said, the words escaping him in a whisper he hadn’t intended to say out loud.

“The what?” 

A breath caught in Eren’s throat, and he tried to find a way to describe it to the other without telling too much. “One of my mother’s songs,” he managed, figuring that the lie was still close enough to the truth. “For when you’re lost, or apart, and you need to be found…”

“How does it go?” 

He didn’t share their songs with others— _especially_ not humans. It was an unspoken rule, one of the many laws that governed the sea. But Levi was different… wasn’t he? 

“Deep through the ocean, leading me through the night—my guiding light.” Eren recited quietly, tugging nervously at the shaggy tresses of his hair while heat filled his cheeks. He gulped down the lump that had formed in his throat, hoping the song’s words didn’t seem too out of the ordinary to Levi. He looked down at the other when he realized their silence had lingered for a moment too long, and his heart skipped a beat to find those silver eyes locked on him. 

“The Northern Star,” Levi stated, a smirk dressing his lips. “It helps us find where we’re sailing on long voyages, so we’re never lost in the dark.” 

“Like my song,” Eren whispered. 

“Like your song,” he agreed. 

“I didn’t know that was possible,” he laughed, returning his eyes to the light—the Northern Star. Levi nestled closer, but Eren’s face remained tilted up, admiring the myriad of other stars, cast like diamonds upon the darkest silk of the sky. “How many are there?”

“Well,” Levi began, tucking himself closer against Eren’s chest as he lifted a finger. “There’s one, and that’s two, three—”

Eren joined him, pointing out dots of light that the other man didn’t notice. He soon gave up trying to describe how many there really were, an endless array of light dazzling him above in the night sky. He lay on his back, arm curled around his captain, and allowed his eyes to fall closed as he listened to Levi counting the stars. 


	10. Secrets and Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER TENNN! I’m so happy we’ve made it this far :,D As much as I’ve loved how nice life has been for the crew lately, I’m very excited for what’s coming up. 
> 
> Thank you for leaving comments, kudos, and for reading each week <3 This story means a lot to me, so I’m doing my best to fight off writer’s block and school stress to keep working on it ;^; 
> 
> On that note, sorry for the late update and any spelling or grammatical errors I might not have been able to catch! My birthday is this Friday, so maybe I’ll make it up to you guys with an early gift…if you know what I mean... be on the lookout! ;) 
> 
> Enjoyyy!

Red splattered the shore, gruesome streaks painting the rocks beneath her body. It leaked into the tide pools, ugly and insidious, and it was impossible to tell whose it was—the figures prodding her with blades and spears were battered nearly as badly as she was. Yet she fended them off; a mer wouldn’t submit to humans without a fight. 

_“Mother!”_

Eren felt the effect of the curse as soon as he pulled himself from the water. His claws scraped against the course surface, but in an instant they were sunk deep into someone’s leg. Droplets ran down his fingers, the scent of blood overwhelming him, and he did little to resist his urge to bite. His prey cried out, a shrilling scream that broke the early morning silence, though nothing could distract the young mer from satisfying his sudden need to fulfill his hunger. 

“Eren!” The familiar voice piqued his interest, but he remained gnawing at the flesh until a knock struck his head, sending him back. “Get away from—” 

A net entangled his limbs before his mother could finish her warning. He thrashed within its tightly woven strands, only making his situation worse with each attempt to free himself. Two humans rushed forward, splitting from the rest of their group. One took hold of the ropes trapping Eren, twisting his small body with each tug, but the other lingered slightly before he came closer. 

A quick laugh rumbled from the man’s chest, though Eren could barely make out the low sound over sobs coming from the woman he’d attacked. His face was littered with scars, long and dark and obviously from Eren’s kind. He hadn’t seen the effect his scratches could have on anyone before, but the inky lines streaming from a fresh wound dragged across the man’s jaw were evidence enough. 

“It’s a little one!” his captor grunted. “Didn’t that drunkard of a navy general report a full pod? How the hell are we supposed to make anything good off one that’s not even grown?! Its tail’s half the normal size, it’s not even worth skinning!” 

Eren’s gaze followed a drop of blood as it fell from the man’s chin, dipping down so they were face to face, only seconds before claws took hold of the throat and twisted. The human fell, hands reaching for the shredded flesh of his neck, and he toppled over once his knees hit the ground. The sight might’ve been horrifying—it _should_ have been horrifying—but she was there. She took down his second captor with ease, discarding the body by pushing it away into the water, then she began tearing through Eren’s nets. 

“You have to go, Eren!” 

_“Let’s_ go!” He agreed with his mother. 

Golden eyes met his, though hers were swollen and tear stricken. Eren was frozen, caught between terror and confusion even as she freed him of the netting. She pushed him forward, nudging him to make for the waves crashing against the rocks, but she didn’t follow. 

A blade was lodged into the side of his mother’s tail, an assault of crimson and steel amongst beautiful shades of green and gold. Her arms shook and her breath quickened as she dragged herself forward, the rest of her body unable to aid her in the trek. She could barely move. 

She couldn’t swim. 

“Get more rippers over here!” A human called out as he stumbled away from the tide pools. As if they’d been waiting for a signal—which, they probably had been—nearly a dozen of the monsters emerged from the dense line of forest, blades and spears and whatever other devices deemed appropriate for _killing_ ready in hand.

“Let’s go,” Eren whispered again, voice cracking as he tugged at his mother’s trembling wrist. “Mom… let’s go—”

”Eren.” She wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him tightly to her chest as sobs welled from within her. “For _once,_ I need you to listen to me.” He nuzzled closer, feeling the quick beat of her heart and the unsteady rise and fall of each breath, before she shoved him away, pushing him into the water. “Go! _Escape!”_

Then gunfire rang out, each bullet a loud drum even from within the dense ocean. 

A net dipped into the water, and he cursed the damn thing. Those it captured were innocent, but the monsters aboard the ship didn’t care to know if that was true. Eren swam toward the hull, cutting through the water faster than any human ever could. Then he took hold of the cord, pushing it between his fingers for a moment before he resigned himself to tear through. 

Hundreds of fish darted from the new opening, swimming off in a hurried escape. Eren took in a deep breath, allowing a smile to spread over his lips as he watched them soar over him, the hues of their scales dancing with the light from above. 

He should join them—he _knew_ this was becoming a bad habit. 

But what else was he to do? Mer hunted in pods, and he was growing despairingly tired of scraping for leftovers. 

He held tight to the rope as the net was raised from the water, the outside air sending shivers over his skin as a breeze hit the side of the ship. Fishermen never expected him. _They_ would never expect him. He’d done it plenty of times before, and there was no reason for today to be different. 

_Just grab the first human you see, then throw yourself overboard._

Simple and quick. 

Anticipation welled inside of him as he neared the gunwale. Still concealed from the ship’s crew, nerves churned in his stomach while saliva pooled under his tongue. He could have gone longer without hunting like this; he didn’t _need_ this meal exactly, but he desperately wanted it, and nothing could stop a desire like that. Just before his head peaked over the ship side, he flung himself from the net, landing ready on the deck. 

But he wasn’t ready for what came next.

“That’s it!”

“The stalker mer! That’s him!”

 _Somehow,_ this crew knew he was coming, and they stood ready to attack. A blade struck Eren’s shoulder, catching him off guard before he could even land. Then he was surrounded, by blades and spears and nets all wielded by the prey he’d been so desperate to capture. 

“We did it!” 

Snarling at the monsters and thrashing beneath the ropes, he tore at the net surrounding him. Doing so only earned a kick from one of the humans. Then there was another. Then the other members of the crew joined in until his entire body fell under their assault. 

“You won’t be hunting these waters any longer!” 

“Damn sea devil!”

Eren readied to fight back, to grab hold of one of those kicking legs and tear it apart, but another thing happened that—yet again—he hadn’t expected. Something far worse than being kicked, or cut by a blade, or captured in the nets. 

The crack of bone silenced everyone on deck. Then a second. Then a third. His body shattered until it transformed into something new, the pain escaping him in deafening screams.

“It’s only a dream, kid.” 

He wished that it was. Eren wished the horrors of his nightmares were just some demented fantasy. Drawing in a deep breath, the familiar scent of sea air and smoke filled his lungs as he burrowed against the other man’s chest. Eyes peeled open as he began to remember where he was: lying on the floorboards of the _Sinna’s_ deck under the darkness of night, his arms wrapped around the captain whose chin rested above his head. 

“It’s only a dream,” Levi whispered again. Hands ran through Eren’s hair before the touch trailed onto his back, moving in circles and gliding back and forth. 

Eren blinked several times, willing the tears to dry from his burning eyes. The man still thought he was asleep, he must have, and he couldn’t risk Levi taking the defensive now—not when they were wrapped so tightly around one another and his touch was so comforting. A shiver ran through him, but Eren pulled the other man closer before he could push him away as he had so many times before.

“Go back to sleep, Eren," Levi whispered. "I’m here—you’re safe.” 

\- - -

“I’ll wring your damn throats!” 

The captain leapt after the pair of swabs as they fled across the quarterdeck. Their cries were joined by Hanji’s distinct laughter, howling over Levi’s curses as he snatched their collars and threw them from the veranda’s stairs. They thudded hard onto the deck below, empty water buckets crashing after them as they fell. 

Eren felt for his new friends as they pleaded with the outraged captain, but he couldn’t spare them much notice. He had sprung up the instant water touched his skin, shaking his coat from his shoulders until the weight of Levi’s pistol in the pocket sent it to the floor. Next he threw off his shirt and kicked thick boots from his feet. He reached for the band of his trousers, freeing his body of them as well. Then the uncharacteristic silence of the deck captured his attention. The entire crew was gawking at him from their various locations around the ship.

“You stupid shits, get back to work,” Levi snapped at his crew as he moved across the quarterdeck; he paused for a moment, eyes flickering over the other’s body. Eren looked away, heat filling his cheeks as he tried to hide himself from those burning silver eyes, but a hand palmed his cheek, soothing his nerves when it directed his gaze to the other man. “Are... you alright?”

“EREN!” Hanji rushed from her place amongst the audience before an answer could take shape. She shrugged off Petra’s reaching arm, flying up the staircase to dive towards the two of them. After scruffing the hair on the tops of their heads, she removed her tattered coat and flung it over Eren’s shoulders, concealing his otherwise bare body. “That was even better than I could have hoped!” Tears spilled from her eyes as one arm linked with Eren’s and the other gripped her stomach. “Be nice to Sasha and Connie, Levi, I put them up to it!” 

“I know you did, shitty glasses.” 

She dodged the heel stomping after her, finding protection by placing Eren between them. 

“Ah ah ah! No discipline today, Captain! This little gem needs his stitches out, remember?” 

“I won’t break your fingers.” Levi rolled his eyes, diverting his attention to Eren’s discarded clothing that now littered the ship. 

Giggles rumbled from the mad woman’s throat, and she sang over the scuffling of the working crew, “You wouldn’t _dare_ to hurt me, Levi!” 

Eren couldn’t catch the threats under Levi’s breath as Hanji dragged him down the stairs—narrowly missing Eld, Gunther, and Petra (who gave him a sweet smile, likely knowing the torment he was about to face under Hanji’s care). He followed her towards the hatch, struggling to keep with her quick pace as he worked to calm his unsteady nerves. 

What the hell had just happened? _She_ put Sasha and Connie up to _that?_ He was ready to question the quartermaster, to have an interrogation of his own for once, but found himself distracted—again—by his dumbfounded crewmates. 

The pair hadn’t followed the captain’s order. Instead they stood beside the hatch’s entrance. Blond hair framed Armin’s beat red cheeks, and hands clasped tightly to his mouth. Mikasa’s arms crossed her chest, and her brows furrowed as if she disapproved of something he had done. Breath caught in his throat when he noticed the bandage dressing her cheek, his resolve to ask what was wrong fading away with guilt for having hurt her. 

“Hey you guys,” he mustered despite the sharp pang in his chest. 

“Hey dumbass,” the bastard replied. 

Though that arrogant tone still dripped from each syllable, Jean’s face was less aggravating than Eren recalled. Dark circles painted skin under his bloodshot eyes, and Eren almost regretted punching him a day earlier when he noticed that busted lip. Jean’s jaw tensed under neglected facial hair _—_ _was he trying (and failing) to grow a beard or something?_ _—_ then his eyes flickered to Armin, just for a moment, before he took a step farther back behind the pair. He’d been willing to challenge Eren over anything just the day before, yet now it was almost as if he was… cautious? 

Confusion had spread across his face, obviously, because Jean stammered out in a shaky breath, “what is it, Eren?”

Armin nudged Jean’s arm, pulling him down to whisper something in his ear, and Eren found himself asking the same question. 

_What the hell was going on?_

“We need to talk to you,” Mikasa gritted through her teeth before he could find out what was happening. 

“No can do, missy!” Hanji interrupted, flinging her elbow around her captive’s head. He’d grown accustomed to the gesture, but a groan still escaped him as she yanked him down and pulled him closer to the hatch. “Eren’s got a special appointment today!” 

“But—” 

“I am but a humble servant! If you have concerns, take them up with our gracious captain! He’s the one obsessing over Eren here, afterall.”

_...Obsessing?_

Hanji pulled him away from the trio, away from his friends and from that asshole Jean, and pushed him down the steps to the deck below. His forehead bumped into the frame of the hatch, but he was too preoccupied attempting to stay balanced to spare much notice to the pain. An outstretched arm saved him as Hanji grabbed the coat collar, pulling him back from crashing into puddles at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Would you like me to carry you?” she giggled, but it wasn’t a genuine offer. Biting at her lip in a failed attempt to suppress more laughter, she took Eren’s hand and yanked him forward. His feet slipped over the glossed wood, so he held her tightly for support and attempted to follow.

 _Somehow_ they managed to reach her study, but he tripped over himself when she shoved him through its door. It slammed behind him, and he rushed to find sanctuary atop an iron chair in the corner of the room. He leaned back, finding its cool surface comfortable simply because they finally had privacy.

“Why did you do that?” His fists gripped the metal arm rests as he rocked forward, demanding to know. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked plainly, not even looking at him as she rummaged through the contents of her medical chest dispersed over a table in the room’s center. 

“That you’re a maniac? Yes, it’s crystal clear.” His words failed to catch her attention. “What if I changed?!” 

“Well you didn’t, Mister Fishy.” She cupped her chin as she leaned against the table on her elbows, kicking her feet back and forth, a large grin beaming at Eren. “My hypothesis was correct!” 

“Your hypo-what?” 

“My theory: you _could_ have changed, but look at yourself! You’ve got legs and… other things! You could have changed, but you _didn’t_ . So _I_ was correct.”

“You risked something like that because you had an _idea?”_

“Having ideas is how the world progresses! And this one will make your life a whole lot easier. You don’t have to be afraid of every little water droplet from now on!” 

“Right….” Eren considered that perhaps she was right, but then he felt a small purr rub against his ankles, reminding him of every reason he had to fear the water. The creature nudged its head against his legs, back and forth between each one, so he scratched behind its ear. Their familiar bond was still strong. 

“SONNY-BEAN!” Hanji shrieked, flailing her arms uncontrollably before she took hold of the cat. “I’ve been so worried! Where were you hiding?!” 

The possibilities were numerous, Eren realized. The quartermaster’s study was incomparable to the captain’s quarters, a hoard of random items ( _‘treasure,’_ more than likely), iron tools like those from her medical chest, and glass bottles piled on every surface. 

“Anyways, Eren,” she continued, squishing her nose into Sonny-Bean’s face. “You didn’t change, and that’s the whole point.”

“I guess I’m just surprised,” he confessed. “You seem to know more about all of this than me. I didn’t even know I could change until… well, you know.” 

“I know,” she agreed, the story of his first transformation among the earliest she’d demanded to be told during their ‘appointments.’ “There’s a lot to learn about your kind still, but we’ll figure it out—little by little!” Her eyes finally left the creature in her grasp to look at him, a terrifying sparkle gleaming in their centers. “But for now, it’d be best if we all just relax a little bit.” 

Things had gone back to normal—well, as normal as they could be—since Eren had woken and started recovering. Being treated as the captain’s first-mate was an adjustment of its own (having someone like Gunther respect his rank was more than intimidating), but other than all of that... weren’t they ‘relaxed’ already? 

“I don’t think I understand.” 

“That’s because you’re the sweetest fishy in all the seven seas!” Hanji freed Sonny-Bean, trading the cat for a thin pair of shears. Then she ruffled Eren’s hair and kneeled beside him, pushing the indigo coat dressing his body aside to examine his stitches and begin work. “You’re sweet, but Levi is smart. And I don’t want him getting any ideas.” 

“Like your hypo—hypo-tho-seats?” 

“Exactly! You’re pretty smart, too!” 

He might’ve been grateful for the compliment, if not for the uncertainty swirling in his stomach. 

“Do you think… it would matter?” he asked, moving a hand through the damp tresses of his hair. Hanji, Armin, and Mikasa had accepted him, afterall. “If Levi knew the truth, I mean.” 

Hanji stilled over his stomach, and she sighed before stating, “yes.” 

“But, Hanji I—” 

“It’s not about _you_ , Eren.” He tried to ignore the extra sting as she removed a cut of thread from his skin. “I’ve known Levi for six years — the others have barely known him for four — so if _anybody_ has a clue about what he’s thinking, it’s me.” 

“Then tell me,” Eren croaked through the lump sticking in the back of his throat. “Why would it matter to him that I’m… that I’m like this?” 

She paused again, pounding her temple with a finger, unwilling to meet his gaze. 

He knew that he was a monster. He knew that he’d done unthinkable things. But so had the humans, so had the navy. Eren had forgiven the man for what was beyond his own control, so couldn’t Levi forgive him, too? 

“Like I said,” Hanji began, voice lacking its whimsical enthusiasm as she hunched back over him. “You’re a sweet fishy, Eren. But not all are, and you’re not the first that Levi has met.”

“So who was?” 

“That part doesn’t matter,” she sighed. “Levi’s had a tough go of it, he prefers not to think of the past. Well, he prefers not to think about most things, actually.” 

_Six years_. Hanji was a part of that past, so maybe she had the answers he was missing. 

“Have you met his family?” 

Hanji yanked back, recklessly slicing her finger and ripping out a stitch. A sharp cry escaped Eren as he gripped at his reopened wound, blood trickling onto his hand, and he tried—but failed—to ignore its blinding color. 

“I’m sorry, Eren!” She rushed to the table and returned with a cloth, ready to press it hard against his skin. “It’s not that bad, I promise! WHOA—” 

He threw a hand to his mouth, biting down hard to distract himself from the overwhelming sensation luring him towards her. The scent filled his lungs, the color burned his eyes, yet he managed to choke out, “Hanji—your finger.” 

“Shit!” She screamed, rushing away to tend to her own wound. Relief fell over him within moments of her absence, and he managed to regain control of himself by the time she returned. “Blood really does get to you, huh Eren?” 

Silence fell over them. Hanji trained her eyes on Eren’s stomach while he gawked at her for an explanation. Sonny-Bean purred somewhere in the near distance, hidden by the treasures hoarded in the room. 

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Hanji whispered, eyes locked where her hands pressed against his bleeding abdomen. “Levi doesn’t talk about them. Not to Petra, or Eld, Olou, Gunther… and barely to me.” 

“He only mentioned them,” Eren mustered, feeling responsible for how somber she now looked. “Last night, just briefly.” 

“Heh, of course.” Her chin tilted to the ceiling, and her glasses reflected the bright lantern light. “We’re just about there, so of course they’re on his mind.” 

“What do you mean, Hanji?” 

“Oh, Eren.” she removed the frames from her face, revealing the tears that had spilled onto her cheeks. She rubbed the fogged glass with the soiled cloth, finding a small patch that had been left dry of his blood, then she wiped it against the tears on her skin. “I don’t remember. That night was a long time ago.” 

She was lying. If he had learned anything about Hanji, it was that she always recalled—and was ecstatic to share—her stories. 

“You know.” Her head tilted, and she smirked as she finally looked his way. “You must be pretty special. I think you’re the first person he’s mentioned them to since our navy days.” 

“You were in the navy, too?!” 

“Eren! You’re wearing Ilse!” 

“I’m— _what?!”_

“You’re wearing the coat issued to me by his Majesty’s Royal Navy!” She tugged the indigo sleeve, tearing at a loosely sewn patch. “Ilse! Isn’t she beautiful?” 

Ilse was not beautiful, and Eren found himself wanting to tear the garment from his skin. It belonged to the navy. And the navy hired the rippers. And the rippers…. 

“I didn’t realize you both were in it,” Eren whispered, fiddling with a large stitch sewn at the coat’s collar.

“The others, too, but just for a while. We all jumped ship because of the captain and his… well, would you prefer to talk about his _charms_ or his _dashing_ good looks!?” 

“Really?” Awe replaced Eren’s contempt as he imagined Levi stepping up to abandon the navy. 

“It was all my idea, of course!” She continued, disappointing Eren with yet another revelation. “Tension was pretty bad between Erwin and Levi, all he needed was a little nudge then... _voila!_ The perfect escape plan! Life’s been pretty exciting ever since!” 

“The commander.” Eren’s knuckles paled as they clenched into fists against the chair. “Were they… close?” 

“I didn’t know you’re the jealous type, Eren!” A hand ruffled through his hair, and he huffed in response, trying to ignore her implications. “Yes, they were, but _‘close’_ doesn’t exactly cover it. Both were pretty heartbroken in the end, afterall.”

“What did the commander do—” he growled, but Hanji’s hand flew against his mouth, closing it shut. 

“I’ll stop you right there, Eren,” she said. “Erwin didn’t _do_ anything. They just… _disagreed_ about some things.”

“What kinds of things?” 

“It isn’t important.” Hanji’s avoidance of the topic made Eren feel that it was. “Levi is just stubborn as hell, especially when it comes to trust.” 

_Trust._

“What… changed between them?” 

“Lies, secrets.... They were both idiots, hard-headed idiots.” She sighed again. “But that doesn’t matter! It’s ancient history now, afterall. But you know what isn’t? _LAST NIGHT._ So tell me every single detail! How was he?!” 

“Hanji! Wh—what are you talking about?!” 

A flush covered his face as she rambled on, describing in great detail what she had expected of their private night on the deck. But Eren’s thoughts wandered, Hanji’s voice fading as her warning echoed through his mind like thunder. 

It would matter if Levi knew the truth, the person who knew him the most was certain of it. It would change _everything_. He had already lied to the man. He had already kept his secret. A secret larger than anything that could’ve been hidden between the captain and commander. 

The fear that had led him to keeping such a secret, fear of being discovered by the humans, was replaced by something that terrified Eren even more.

He knew what had to be done. 


	11. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy… Friday! This is my favorite chapter (so far), and I couldn't resist sharing it early for my birthday! Whoo! :,D
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos, comments, and for reading each week! I’ve been dealing with a bit of writer’s block recently, but I love hearing what you think of the story and am really inspired to get back into the swing of things<3 
> 
> Also a super huge thank you to my beta Sidereality for editing the heck out of this and making fun jokes the whole time with me :,)
> 
> Enjoyyy, good luck, and I’ll see you next week!

_ Wings.  _

Levi lay flat against the deck, hands clasped behind his head as he watched the flock dart in and out of view, soaring high above the ship, dark silhouettes against the setting sun. They were beautiful. They were  _ free.  _

Metal clashed, clanks echoing through the otherwise still air. He swallowed a chuckle as the pair slid over the floorboards, limbs flailing and blades in hand. The battle was ruthless, each opponent determined to best the other, but she stumbled — just slightly — and that gave him the opening he needed, sending her to the floor. 

“Dammit!” She jumped back to her feet, cursing, then stomped toward Levi, the golden handle of her blade glinted in the sunlight as she sheathed it before dropping on the deck to lie down beside him.

“Quit laughing at me!” she scolded Levi, striking his arm with a half-clenched fist. “You should be practicing with us!” 

“He doesn’t  _ need _ practice,” chimed her opponent, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a sleeve while sliding his own bronze-clad blade into its scabbard. “He taught you how to fight, after all.”

“Shut it, will you?” she huffed, wiggling to cross her arms over her chest. “I _know_ Levi’s the strongest. He taught you too _,_ idiot!”

Levi drew in a deep breath, allowing his eyes to close while a smile pulled the corners of his lips. Their bickering continued — it often did for hours on end — so he didn’t expect to hear them address him in the midst of it. 

“Have you thought any more about it, Levi?” 

He reopened his eyes and turned to the man standing above them, groaning at his companion’s implications. He didn’t want to think about  _ ‘it.’  _ He was content for things to remain as they were. Their trio was notorious on the seas, they had their own ship, they could do whatever they wanted, and most importantly… they had each other. 

“It’d be our biggest scheme yet!” The girl at his side piped before he could shut down their proposition (again). “Think about it! Kenny says the power controls  _ everything  _ in the ocean, and if we find it — ” 

“Or,” interrupted the other man, taking a knee to join them on the floor. “If  _ someone else  _ does — ”

“Let me talk!” she screeched, flinging herself up to drill the both of them with her stare. “If  _ we _ find it, we could control the mer and — ”

“If  _ we _ don’t _ , _ someone else will.”

Levi sighed: he knew their intentions, and he knew they were right. He pushed up onto his elbows, abandoning his relaxed position on the deck. How many times had they already had this discussion? His gaze lingered over his companions, their brows raised and lips pursed as they awaited his answer. 

“The navy’s already trailing our asses,” he said finally, shifting his eyes between the both of them. “I’ll protect you, no matter what… but is this really  _ that  _ important?” 

“It’s the greatest treasure out there, Levi. We could do anything _ — _ _ be anyone _ _ — _ if we had it... this is our best chance.” 

“And we’ll protect you, too, bro.” 

\- - -

Music thrummed through the keep, a steady pulse keeping tune to a chaotic rhythm. The crew was lively tonight, more so than they had been during any recent celebrations, and their euphoric cries and laughter were to blame for interrupting his work. 

Well, it wasn’t his only distraction. 

_ “Come outside,”  _ the brat had said as if it was some simple thing to do, as if he could neglect his work so close to embarking, as if he could abandon  _ them…  _

Levi ran a hand through his hair, dragging each finger hard against his scalp. He leaned forward over his table, over the sprawl of documents that had failed to reveal any new information with each subsequent read, and drew in a deep breath. The luxury of drinking his night away with a certain clumsy brat was not a possibility. Not when they were so close to the key, and so close to the  _ nests.  _

The crew trusted him to know what he was doing, to make the best decisions on all of their behalf. But, even now, he was ill-prepared. Each of his attempts to learn about the nests had failed, just like  _ he  _ had failed when —

He struck a fist to the table, cursing beneath his breath as he tried to quiet his surging thoughts.  _ They’d be alright. This was different.  _ Hardly, though. The map was in his possession, yes, but his knowledge of the mer was still lacking.

Gunther and Eld had accompanied Petra earlier in the day to scout the caverns, which was now only several miles ahead. They had turned back at the first mer sighting, their small barge not equipped to handle a full pod, but she had reported the geography to be similar to the others they’d discovered in the past. There were no distinguishable features between this and other nests, despite what this one hid in its depths... though that was hardly reason to raise anyone’s hopes. It being similar did little to lessen the danger. His informants didn’t know how to navigate the mers’ damn labyrinth of caves, and so neither did he. 

He’d have to act off instinct. He’d need to rely entirely upon himself. He could do it, this wouldn’t be like  _ then _ _ — _ __

Levi’s eyes snapped to the makeshift curtain in the doorway when laughter rang out directly outside the threshold, demanding his attention. How could he resist the temptation of a voice like that, especially raised in joy? Strong, yet melodic, it captivated every sense of his being. He pushed back his chair and stood, no longer concerned with the contents of the papers he trifled with, and headed for the exit, almost uncontrollably drawn by who must be waiting for him outside.

_ Just a few minutes,  _ he assured himself. He’d just check on the brat, then he’d return to his work free of distractions and finalize plans for the coming morning. 

“Captain?” a sweet voice asked when he pushed past the curtain and stepped outside. The question carried through the din of the party, but it brought him none of the satisfaction he’d anticipated, for it wasn’t from who he had expected. Petra sat on a barrel beside Hanji, who leaned against the wall of his quarters, her open mouth a fine complement to Hanji’s whimsical grin. 

“What are  _ you _ doing out here, grouchy?!” The quartermaster asked, abandoning Petra to lunge toward Levi. He stretched out a hand to stop her from flinging herself over him, shoving the wild brunette back from whence she had come.

“Where’s Eren?” he asked, releasing a deep sigh as he adjusted his cravat. His eyes were strained from hours of work, and the dim lantern light made it even more difficult for him to pick out the clumsy brat from the dozens of people aboard the ship. 

“Just missed him,” Hanji beamed, tilting her head to motion to the center of the deck.

His tired, unadjusted eyes scanned the area: from the port to starboard sides, around the base post of the mast, through dozens of bodies writhing together in what could only be considered a poor excuse for dancing. He found a blond head of hair first, bobbing up and down as the former swab twirled over the floorboards. A pair of light eyes beneath a furrowed brow caught his as the girl sent a glare his way. Even after training her to fight with a second blade, Mikasa still seemed to loathe him. But Levi didn’t notice the insubordination much anymore — rather, he didn’t  _ care. _

Eren held tight to each of his friends’ hands where they skipped in circles on the center of the deck. His head was thrown back in exhilaration, his body visibly shaking with laughter. The anger and confusion that so often dressed his features were absent from his face, replaced by a wide smile. He seemed happier than Levi had ever seen him before. 

The three of them, hand in hand, they were so much like… 

Those emerald eyes drained the rising tide of his memories before Levi had to go through the struggle of it himself. Even at a distance, even in the dark, they captured the light on the deck more radiantly than the jeweled ring on his finger ever could. Levi’s breath caught in his throat, his heartbeat grew unsteady in his chest, and he couldn’t help the tremble that ran down his back when Eren released his friends and stepped across the deck towards the keep, towards  _ him. _

The captain’s unexpected presence had captured the attention of his crew, but their gazes slid off Levi’s perception like water off a duck’s back. He wasn’t there for  _ them. _ Their surprise barely mattered. Nothing but the tall man whose skin flushed as he drew close did. Thunder rolled somewhere in the near distance, but the promise of a coming storm was muted in Levi’s ears compared to Eren’s words.

“Will you dance with me, Levi?” A hand reached toward him, and he considered it for a moment before returning his attention to the other’s blushing cheeks, his unkempt hair, that unintentionally alluring smile on his lips.

“How do you expect to dance?” Levi chuckled, the words coming out more breathless than he’d expected. “You’re even shit at walking, kid.” 

The space between Eren’s brows creased, and his mouth opened slightly as he fixed his eyes on Levi’s, those gems demanding all of the captain’s attention — then he inched forward, intertwining their hands before he said:

“I know you’ll catch me.”

He didn’t wait for a response, tugging Levi into the crowd of bodies, trying and failing miserably, in some cases, to keep rhythm with the roaring beat. Several crew members bumped into them, jumping back as soon as they realized they’d hit the captain. He might have minded — he  _ should  _ have minded — that they were unwashed and sweaty and  _ disgusting,  _ but they weren’t important. All that mattered was the man clasping tight to his hand, guiding him as surely as a lighthouse guided a ship home. 

Eren finally found a spot in the crowd for them, and Levi pulled him close. He reached behind the taller man’s neck, fingers finding the short hairs at his nape, and the tail of thin fabric there. Bandages remained wrapped around Eren’s torso, a veritable sleeve of gauze tied all the way from his waist up to his collar, but Levi ignored his typical, self-loathing response at seeing the evidence of the man’s injuries. He wanted only, as he did more and more often these days, to catch another glimpse of those emerald eyes. 

His other hand found a place at Eren’s hip, a jut of hard bone and muscle beneath his touch. Something rose in his chest when the other’s hands claimed his waist. Slowly, ignoring the pace of the music and all those around them, the pair swayed back and forth, caught in a rhythm of their own making. Despite their proximity, so much more intimate than the captain had ever been willing to show, those eyes evaded him, locked instead on the floors. 

“This isn’t how you danced with your friends,” Levi snarked, trying to provoke his first mate into looking up. Satisfaction welled within him when Eren’s cheeks flushed, but it did nothing to fix the fact that he was still being denied the view he desired most. 

“Well, you’re not… my  _ friend,” _ he whispered, voice cracking over the last word.

“Oh?” Levi raised a brow, smirking. “I’m hurt, Eren, truly.”

“Shut up.” Eren’s nose crinkled adorably (though Levi would deny ever thinking the word, if somehow anyone found out) as he scowled forward, but the expression could do nothing to hurt him. For he had succeeded, and those stunning eyes finally met his, drowning him in green as many-hued as the ever changing colors of the sea. “You know what I mean.” 

“Do I?” 

“I, um, I think so?” He said uncertainly, releasing his grip on Levi to pull away when he didn’t immediately receive an answer. “I’m sorry, I — ”

Levi tightened his hand on Eren’s hip, pulling him closer than they’d been before.  _ “Que suis-je en train de faire,” _ he laughed, and Eren’s perplexed expression begged him to translate. “I’m not your  _ ‘friend,’  _ brat,” he said instead, blinking slowly, still under the other’s spell. 

“Then,” Eren gulped, leaning down until his lips drew close to Levi’s face. “What are you, Levi?”

The kid wouldn’t get the best of him — not in front of his crew, not in front of anyone. He was the captain. Eren might not follow his orders, but Levi wasn’t one to submit. Tilting his chin up to the other’s ear, he purred, “what do you  _ want _ me to be, Eren?” 

A light flashed above the deck, bright and sudden as it fell over those onboard. The pair wasn’t startled, even when the following clap of thunder sent everyone else into a frenzy. They remained fixed on one another: arms entangled and bodies pressed close, faces only inches apart, while droplets of rain fell from the sky. The sprinkle picked up, turning into a steady rainfall until it completely soaked them, coursing over the places their bodies touched like rivers down a mountainside. 

The crew scuffled around the deck, rushing to clear it of the food and rum before the delicacies could be drenched by the rain. Levi noticed Hanji gawking at them out of the corner of his eye, with a hand waving over her head and another over her mouth. Petra took hold of her flailing wrist and dragged her towards the bow of the ship, where Olou covered his head with a fiddle and Eld and Gunther protected their own instruments. It was then he realized that the music had ended some time ago, and the ship had already been cleared — most of the dancers had likely retreated below deck for the night. He stood alone with Eren. Water streamed down the side of his face, dripping from the ends of his shaggy hair all the way to his jaw. He was unmoved, utterly  _ unbothered _ by the substance, even though it had seemed to terrify him in every encounter he’d had before. 

“Eren?” Levi managed over another boom of thunder, the rain growing heavier as he palmed the other’s cheek. He only stared forward, unresponsive at first, but his smile grew wide — a ridiculous, cheeky grin — and he leaned into Levi’s touch. Once he nodded his head, the captain took his hand again and pulled him towards the safety of their keep. Eren’s damnably unreliable legs were not quite able to keep pace with the determined man, and he stumbled over himself when they burst through the curtain. 

The brat had been right about the captain catching him if he fell: Levi spun on his heel, catching Eren’s waist before he could smack against the floors. He helped him back to his feet, steadying his hands over the soaked wrinkles of his shirt. 

Eren’s body quivered beneath his touch, his sharp breath the only sound cutting through the silence in the room. “Levi,” those damn eyes fluttered closed as he said his name, unsteady as it left his lips. “I need to tell you something.” 

He knew what the brat had to say. How could he not after their confession on the deck? Levi wasn’t his  _ captain, _ he wasn’t his  _ friend _ … he was something else, and that was all he wanted to be. 

“I already know, Eren.”

“You do?” Eren whispered, blinking repeatedly as if he couldn’t fathom what the man had just said. 

“I have since we met.”

Levi fixated on the other’s lips — close enough that their breath mingled, yet still far enough away to torment him. He shivered, though he wasn’t certain whether it was from anticipation or their chilled, soaked clothing.

_ He’d solve two problems at once, _ he figured, and took hold of the hem of Eren’s shirt, pulling it off in a quick swoop. The other responded in an instant _ — _ _ naturally. _ He flung his offending garment to the corner, shifting his attention to undressing the captain. But his urgency only amplified his clumsiness, and he fumbled to free Levi of the wretched things.

He didn’t care to chastise his first mate about poor habits or manners now — they’d denied themselves of this long enough. 

Calloused hands cupped the back of Eren’s neck, pulling the taller man down as he pushed his toes against the floor to reach him. Those lips were so close, closer than they’d been before, practically  _ begging  _ to be claimed. He shut his eyes, expecting that the other had done the same. 

Maybe Hanji was right — maybe she had been right all along, all these years. Maybe his suffering was atonement enough. Maybe he could move on. Her words had never seemed more true, and now he was ready to believe them — all he needed was a single confirmation that he deserved whatever happiness he was discovering with Eren. 

“Stop it, Levi.”

But maybe he didn’t. 

\- - -

“This is serious, Eren. We need to talk.” 

A groan escaped him before he could even think about it, and Mikasa’s response filled him with immediate regret. Her brow furrowed, and she looked as if she was ready to tackle him, if that was what it would take to get her point across. It wouldn’t, though. He had enough on his mind, and he was choosing to ignore it in lieu of focusing on the meat he was sending to his stomach.  _ ‘Turkey,’  _ Hanji had informed him.  _ It was a turkey leg _ . And it was delicious. And — currently — it was the only thing he cared about.

“Can’t we just enjoy the party?” he whined around a mouthful of his half-chewed dinner, leaning back in the seat he’d found atop a barrel positioned just outside the captain’s keep. 

Even if he’d failed at getting Levi outside — and at mustering enough courage to talk to him about the topic of his and Hanji’s conversation — he wanted to enjoy this night. His days on the  _ Sinna  _ could be numbered, after all. 

“We’re just trying to help you.” He might’ve been willing to listen to whatever logic Armin was ready to provide, if not for the fact that he caught sight of Jean peeking at them from behind the mast, reminding him that he had things to talk about of his own. 

“What the hell’s been up with horse-face?” Eren pointed in the man’s direction, who ducked behind the post as if it would hide the fact he’d been noticed. “He follows you guys around now like some sort of lost guppy.”

Armin stiffened, opening his mouth before being interrupted by his companion. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Mikasa stated, shaking Eren’s shoulder to recapture his attention. “We have to talk to you about the captain.” 

“Levi?” 

“Captain Levi,” Armin corrected them, earning raised eyebrows from both. 

“...Why do you want to talk about him?” Eren asked his friends. 

They exchanged uncertain glances before Armin’s gaze fell back to Eren. “We can’t say up here,” he said. “Just come with us below deck — ”

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite trio!” Hanji’s timing was always impeccable, and Eren wondered if she was this involved in the rest of her crew’s lives. Surely she didn’t have enough time in the day to do so, but then again… it  _ was _ Hanji they were talking about. One never quite knew with her. She’d materialized suddenly — likely from the quarterdeck — toting a large bottle of rum in one hand and Petra on the other. He should have expected that the woman would sit practically in his lap (and then pull Petra into hers), as personal space had never been something she was keen to respect. “What are we up to tonight?” 

“We were just — ” 

“Nothing.” Mikasa cut Eren off with a sharp glance. 

“We were just telling Eren that he should eat some vegetables,” Armin said, pulling a string of carrots from behind his back. “He has a terrible diet.” 

“THAT’S FOR SURE!” Hanji roared, slapping her knee and nearly sending herself, Petra, and Eren, off the barrel. The turkey leg very nearly flew out of his grasp. 

“Very funny,” he muttered, readjusting his grip on the treat. 

“It’s hilarious!” Tears streaked the quartermaster’s face, fogging up her already dirtied glasses. 

“Don’t tease Eren,” Petra piped up, smiling in his direction. “He can eat as many turkey legs as he wants.” 

The woman’s typical effect, calming on everyone else, had an opposite one on Hanji, her howls growing louder as she quite literally pushed them all onto the floor. Petra quickly gathered herself to her feet and sat back on the barrel, but Eren was trapped under Hanji’s body as she pounded a fist against the wooden planks. One hand had been carefully holding his turkey leg aloft, but an erratic whack of Hanji’s hand sent it tumbling into the dark.

“It’ll take more than just turkey legs to satisfy this guy’s appetite!” 

Eren feigned a burst of laughter, looking mournfully after the lost leg, and hoping that Petra — and any possible eavesdroppers — wouldn’t draw any significant assumptions from Hanji’s words. He was grateful when Mikasa pulled the cackling woman up and deposited her against the side of the keep. He accepted Armin’s outstretched hand and followed when the pair led him to the center of the deck. They seemed to have abandoned their plan for heading downstairs in favor of dancing, and Eren was more than willing to participate — even if he barely knew how. 

He would have been content to remain with them all night, but the possibility of  _ something else _ was far too tempting when his eyes caught sight of Levi, blinking owlishly as he stepped out of the keep. 

“He’s not who you think he is,” Mikasa’s whisper was barely audible over the loud music on the deck, and he should have given more thought to it. “Be careful, Eren.” 

\- - -

Eren pushed the man away by his shoulders, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to relinquish his grip completely, feeling as if he’d be sick at any moment. He gulped down the bile in his throat, his stomach turning with the sudden nerves he couldn’t keep down. 

“Is something  _ wrong?” _ Levi spat, the accusation in his tone too much to ignore. 

_ “Wrong?”  _

He couldn’t look Levi in the eye, couldn’t bring himself to face the man. He was frozen, his gaze locked on the image in the keep’s looking glass, a replacement for the one he’d broken just put there that morning. How he would have done anything to stop Hanji from lending it to them now. 

His hands still rested on Levi’s back — bare, muscled, and completely mangled in a gruesome arrangement of black-centered scars. 

_ “All  _ of this is wrong.” Eren pulled away, a hand covering his mouth to suppress a gag. 

“What exactly are you referring to,  _ brat?”  _

“Don’t call me that!” Eren snapped, fists flinging over his head in frustration. “I’m not some damn kid! I’m not a pirate, I’m not — ” he paused, yanking at his hair and trying to focus on anything in the room but Levi. “I just don’t belong here.”

“Eren,” Levi started, his touch finding a place on the other’s fist. “I  _ want  _ you to belong here, I — ”

“That’s not possible.” Eren stepped back, heading for the table to steady himself against a chair. Levi followed. 

“What the hell are you trying to say?” 

Tears threatened Eren, but that wasn’t the bodily function that caught his attention. The other man’s presence was suddenly more than overwhelming. He stared forward, trying to focus on anything but the fact that he was near a human — that he was near his  _ prey. _ His knuckles went white where they gripped the back of the chair, his nails digging into the wood grain — almost as easily as they could dig into Levi’s back. 

“I have to tell you something,” he croaked, covering his mouth with a shaky hand again. “I’m — I’m terrified, Levi,” he pushed through the sudden hunger burning his tongue, through the temptation to taste the man’s flesh.

He was thrown against the rug before he was able to process what had happened. Levi’s body covered him as glass and fragmented pieces of the windowsill flew overhead. The ship rocked precariously, bottles crashing down from the keep’s bar and rolling towards them, a nauseating scent of gunpowder and booze replacing that of the fresh rain. Perhaps the greatest indication that there had been an attack was the sharp ringing in his ears and the way the world seemed a little hazy around the edges as he returned to his feet and tried to keep up with Levi. 

They fled out of the quarters and onto the deck where the crew were surging up from the hatch like minnows through a small opening. He followed Levi to the stairs, then to the edge of the quarterdeck where his entire body went rigid against its rails. Petra was there a moment later, offering a spyglass to the captain. But even Eren knew he didn’t need it — there was only a short distance between the  _ Sinna  _ and those white sails. 

“Levi!” Hanji sang as she sprinted toward them, her eyes going wide upon taking in the sight of the pair — both with torsos still bare from  _ whatever  _ had just happened.  _ “LEVI I CAN HANDLE THIS!”  _ she screeched, taking hold of each of their wrists in an attempt to shove them back down the veranda’s steps. “You boys get back to business!” 

“Hanji,” Levi growled, withdrawing his hand from her grasp. “This isn’t the time, we need to act  _ now.”  _

“Now?” Petra gasped, a hand flying to her mouth. “But… Captain, the storm, high tide, and the  _ Rose  _ is right behind us!” 

“That’s precisely why we  _ need  _ to do this  _ now.”  _

“You’re not thinking clearly,” Hanji began, but Levi didn’t listen.

“Olou!” he called, summoning the man to the quarterdeck. “Find Eld and Gunther — you three prepare a scouting vessel.” 

“Yes, Captain!” he saluted, scurrying back down the steps. 

“Levi,” Hanji said again, her tone more grave than Eren had ever heard. “This is a terrible idea. We can’t leave the crew alone to fend off the  _ Rose _ _ — _ _ ”  _

“You won’t be,” he stated, pushing away from the railing to follow Olou. “You’ll create a diversion with the  _ Sinna  _ while we slip away — ” 

“In the middle of the night! Levi, think about this for a second — ”

“That’s an  _ order!” _ He snapped, stopping at the base of the stairs to turn back to her. “Approach the caves at first light, we’ll rendezvous come morning.” 

“Y-Yes sir!” Petra snapped to attention, though her tone still sounded uneasy, then she rushed away from the group.

“Anything for you,  _ Captain,” _ Hanji spat before she left. 

Levi continued on his path, returning — Eren assumed — to the keep. He rushed after him, desperate to know what was going on, but even more desperate to ease whatever was suddenly plaguing the man. He pushed aside the curtain, finding that Levi was sifting through his drawers, and he kicked through the debris from the shattered windows to get closer. 

“What are we after?” Eren asked, retrieving his discarded (and still wet) shirt from a pile of glass, shaking it free of any remaining shards. He needed to keep pace with Levi, but the man was practically already dressed. 

_ “We’re  _ not after anything,” Levi’s words were a deep growl as he unlocked the iron trunk.  _ “You’re _ staying with Hanji.”

Eren continued forward, and though Levi attempted to dodge him, he caught the man’s elbow and pulled them face to face, only a breath apart.

“I’m not leaving you.” 

“No,  _ you’re  _ staying  _ here.” _ Levi pushed through gritted teeth, those silver eyes piercing deep into the pain growing in Eren’s chest. _ “I’m  _ leaving.” 

“But we’re being attacked!” 

“Hanji is more than capable of — ” 

“Levi!” Eren’s hands caught the other’s face, forcing the man to look at him. The fear of his own actions — of losing control — was replaced yet again at the threat of being apart. “Please, tell me what’s happening.” 

“I can’t.” The silver gaze fell away from Eren’s. “I just…  _ need _ you to stay here. I need to know you’re safe.” 

“You can’t protect me.” 

“I know that, but — ” 

“You’re not my  _ captain,  _ Levi.” Eren pronounced, knowing it was the last round of ammunition he could fire into the man. “I’m coming with you.” 


	12. The Nest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stormy seas are ahead mateys…
> 
> I am SO sorry for the pirate lingo. I'm a complete fool and can’t be stopped.
> 
> Anyways, happy Sunday! I’m really excited for the next few chapters for… *reasons.* So thank you for being here, reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! 
> 
> An extra special thanks to my beta Sidereality for getting me through a tough week and for their incredible edits<3
> 
> “Sea” you next Sunday! ;)

The water was motionless around them, except for the ripples sent out over the abyss from each stroke of the oars. The humid air stung his eyes, and Eren pulled his hood down over his brows. His cloak was nearly dry, but that wasn’t surprising — the rain had stopped after they’d disembarked on the rowboat from the  _ Sinna,  _ once the cannon fire faded in the distance. The violent storm had been traded for a tranquil sea, yet uneasiness still saturated the air.

Something was different. Something was  _ wrong. _

The crew was silent, the sound of everyone’s breathing measured so as not to be louder than the others’. He eyed Petra for the umpteenth time since they’d boarded the barge, hoping that she’d offer some sort of reassurance: a smile or a nod, at this point  _ anything  _ from her would ease Eren’s worries. 

She looked away when their gazes met. 

Olou yawned beside Eren — just loud enough to disturb the peace — earning a scowl from the woman sitting across from them. Eld exchanged a glance with Gunther, then they stilled the oars on either side of the boat, waiting for a response from the captain. 

Levi’s back was all Eren could see, and though they weren’t visible through his clothing, the disturbing patchwork of scars was clear in his mind’s eye. Fog split around the captain’s frame where he stood at the bow, scanning the dark horizon for... whatever it was they were looking for. They had to be close now, wherever it was they were going. He’d declined to share that information with Eren, and the others had followed suit, keeping their mouths shut when he’d asked. 

__ A shipwreck, perhaps? That was a likely destination, wasn’t it? Everything went down with a sinking ship, and — considering how obsessed they all were with treasure — maybe the pirates planned to loot the remains of one. Eren couldn’t fathom how they expected to reach the bottom of the ocean. More likely, he figured, this had to do with Levi’s rivalry. With the Commander. 

Why else would the  _ Rose  _ have attacked? 

He heard the hums first, low and faint in the distance, before the humans could pick them up with their weaker senses. The songs grew louder,  _ stronger,  _ as the others resumed rowing over the ocean surface. Petra’s shivers told Eren that she could hear them now, too. The whole crew could, and their racing heartbeats thrummed loud in his ears. They were terrified, as they should be.

The voices echoed louder: singing songs he didn’t recognize, interspersed with shrieks of laughter. The fog seemed to disappear in an instant, giving way to a rocky cliffside. The melodies speared through the silence, bouncing back and forth between the cavern walls ahead of them, a klaxon warning intruders to stay away. 

“What are we doing here?” Eren whispered, eyes searching for answers from any of his crewmates. A finger shot to Petra’s lips, telling him to hush, and Olou jabbed an elbow into his side. They were wide-eyed and shaking, but they weren’t surprised. They’d  _ known  _ this was where they’d been headed. 

Levi turned, stepping back toward the others where they awaited his order. “Prepare to dock,” he said under his breath, tucking away a thin spyglass into his coat pocket. “There’s an opening a few meters ahead — we’ll sail straight in.” 

“The  _ tide,  _ Captain,” Petra whispered, but Levi had already paced back to the front. 

Eren shot up, shrugging off Olou’s reaching hand. “What the hell is going on? Levi — ”

“You wanted to be here,” the captain growled, his gaze straight ahead and a hand tapping against his temple. “So stop asking questions.” 

Eren gripped his shoulder, desperate to renew the connection between them, to knock down this wall that had been built. But Levi jolted at the touch, pulling away suddenly, then those silver eyes shot up and pierced the emptiness in Eren’s chest. They were swollen, blood-shot, as if tears were ready to flood out and drown him at any moment. 

It was like Hanji had said: he was exhausted, he’d overworked himself, and there was no way in hell he was thinking clearly. How hadn’t Eren noticed earlier? The captain had no idea the amount of danger he was in — what was waiting for them inside those caves — yet he was determined to sail on. 

“We can’t go in there, Levi. Do you even know what that is?” 

“It’s a mer nest.” 

…Or maybe he did. 

“I know what I’m doing,  _ brat.  _ Sit down, and stay out of my way.” 

A chill prickled Eren’s skin, Mikasa’s words resurging in his mind:

_ “He’s not who you think he is.”  _

Levi was the captain of the  _ Sinna. _ He was brave, he was intelligent, he’d shown Eren kindness unlike any other human had. But...  _ he knew what he was doing. _

_ What the hell was that supposed to mean? _

“Not a word from any of you,” Levi instructed after Eren sat back down with Olou and Petra.  _ “In and out. _ We’ll get what we’re here for, nothing else.” 

“Yes sir,” the others chimed, but Eren couldn’t force out the words between the rapid pace of his breath. 

The moonlight vanished as the boat pushed into the cavern, shadows dropping like a cloak over Levi. A torch sparked to life, and Petra kicked the errant embers where she had lit its flame. After a few flicks of her wrist she lit a second and passed it to Olou. The man nodded when he accepted it. Everyone knew the plan; they’d rehearsed this. Everyone except Eren. 

The light of the flames bounced off the cavern walls, which seemed to draw imposingly closer as the boat carried on. Rock and wood collided, jolting Eren from his seat, but the sting of his knees scraping against the floorboards was incomparable to the nerves churning in his stomach. He remained on the floor, wedged between Olou and Petra, willing himself not to hurl. Mersongs echoed full volume through the nest, amplified through the natural bellows of rocky tunnels, ringing through every bone in Eren’s body. His hands shot to his ears, pushing hard against his skull in an attempt to mute the warnings, fingers grabbing hold of tufts of hair and yanking hard. 

“Eren.” 

The familiar voice split through the strangers’. Levi knelt in front of him, reaching forward to thread his hair, gentling the harsh pull of Eren’s own hand. The others were gone already, having abandoned the barge to explore the cavern; those tired silver eyes focused on him alone.

“I want you to stay here,” he whispered. 

Eren opened his mouth to speak, to  _ scream _ , to tell Levi that he wasn’t in charge of him, that he  _ still _ wasn’t his captain. But the man tipped his chin up with his hand before his voice could escape. He was right to have cut him off. The volume of his protest would have been more than enough to draw unwanted attention from the cave’s inhabitants. 

“Please, Eren, I — ”

He shook his head in response, gathering himself to his feet at once. Levi wasn’t going to make him stay behind. Not here. He wouldn’t allow the man to go in on his own, to be left unprotected. Eren turned, extending a hand to him, and the man only sighed before taking it, seeing from the stubborn furrow of his first mate’s brow that a decision had been made. 

Levi vaulted over the edge of the boat first, landing with ease on the cavern floor. Eren lacked such grace, and if not for the capable captain — always ready to catch him — he would have smacked hard against the shore. Levi stepped away after that. His posture straightened and he tugged at his cravat, leaving Eren to join Eld and Gunther in the center of the cave. Water splashed under his boots with each step. This location had obviously been flooded previously,  _ submerged  _ in sea water and, more than likely, it would be again. Perhaps even soon. 

Petra stood at the head of the group, pointing down tunnels that split off from the room in every direction. She shook with unsuppressable fear, and her small seemed utterly miniscule compared to the large expanse of rock surrounding them. She rejoined the others with a shrug of her shoulders. Then Levi shuddered, reached into his pocket to retrieve a piece of parchment, and unfurled its golden corners, revealing a map. 

_ They were hunting treasure, after all. _

Levi’s entire body trembled — though he did well to hide it from those who hadn’t seen him in such a state before. It made Eren ache down to the marrow. He wished he could return to that night, the first he’d ever seen Levi appear so vulnerable, when he’d discovered the man sitting before his piano. He wanted to reach out, to take hold of his face and comfort those lips with his own, to tell him he wasn’t alone, that Levi had  _ him  _ now. 

Surely… Surely he’d understand why Eren had lied and would accept him for what he was. He  _ had _ to. There was more between them than simply that between a captain and his first mate. There was more between them than he’d ever felt with anyone else. 

He wanted to listen to Levi’s melody, for it to silence the songs of the mer who called this place home. His eyes drifted closed, and he grew lost in the memory: Levi’s hands gliding over the piano keys, the thin fabric dressing his shoulders brushing against Eren’s skin, that familiar sensation of heat from the man being so close. The tune hummed in his chest, each note confirmation of how he felt for Levi, vocalized in quiet music around them. 

Slowly his eyes blinked open, and the bewildered expression on Levi’s face sent nerves swirling through his chest. The captain darted forward, a hand catching hold of his. The urgency in his moves should have been enough to pull Eren from his trance — but it didn’t quite. He remained fixed on Levi as the song left his lips — then a hand covered his mouth, the familiar touch sending chills down his body, and he finally snapped out of it, noticing a new light shining through the dark. 

Shades of greens and blues came to life around them, sparkling over Eren’s head and traveling in swirls across the cavern rock. The torchlight paled in the glow, shining brightly from where each light dotted the edges of the cave. Bulbs continued appearing, blooming one by one, until they formed a glowing path that led into one of its tunnels. 

“Bioluminescence,” Petra gasped, quickly throwing a hand over her mouth after slipping up and speaking.

“Do you think it’s a trap, Cap’n?” Gunther whispered, but the man he had questioned wasn’t listening. 

Levi stared at Eren, silver eyes wide and brows drawn in an uneasy expression. His fingers tightened around Eren’s wrist, and this time, the typically soothing touch did little to relax Eren. They were cold and stiff, piercing through him like icy manacles. 

“Did you do that, kid?” 

“No,” he lied. 

But a mersong was meant to lead him home, and it would lead them to the center of this nest. 

“Let’s go.” Petra took charge when the captain failed to, pointing her torch in the direction of the lit tunnel. “In and out, remember?” 

Their hands parted, and Eren felt relief when the other turned away to lead his crew. He stumbled after them, willing his clumsy feet to keep pace over the slippery cavern floor. It’d been a lifetime since he’d been in a nest, and he desperately wanted to escape this unfamiliar one. He didn’t know who it belonged to, but he doubted his crew would be welcomed as guests.

Silently, they followed the glowing cavern roof, weaving through a tangled web of tunnels that seemingly deposited them from one into another with no end in sight. The songs had faded some time ago, yet Eren still felt their presence. He knew they were close. At any moment they could encounter the strangers, but the captain led them deeper into the maze. There was a sudden stop to the rhythmic splashing of their boots through the puddles, and Eren noticed that they’d reached the end of yet another hall. 

Levi stood at the dead end—or rather, what _appeared_ to be a dead end. The blue lights culminated in a spiral against the farthest cavern wall, a thin string of them darting straight down and disappearing near his boots. There was a gap between the ground and the edge of the tunnel—a half-submerged crawl space with just enough room for someone to wade through with their head above water. Levi stepped toward Olou, who passed him the torch, then he turned back without saying a word. 

He knelt down and disappeared into the gap, the light from the fire licking the low ceiling the only evidence he was still there. But it was fading as the man moved further into the cave system. There could only be a small pocket of air down there, and Eren doubted it would last long with all of them breathing and the flame feeding from it, too. 

But… did  _ he _ need to breathe it? His body hadn’t been submerged in water since their battle with the  _ Rose,  _ and he realized just how little he actually understood of his own nature. Would he transform? Would he lose control… again?  __

The crew stepped forward, following blindly as they readied themselves to jump in. Petra glanced back to where Eren was standing, just for a moment, with worry plastered on her face. Olou wiggled his legs into the gap. An elbow nudged Eren’s shoulder, and he recoiled from the touch. He hadn’t noticed that the pair stood to either side of him, yet now Gunther and Eld offered the reassurance he’d desired since they’d left the  _ Sinna _ . 

“Cap’n knows yer uneasy ‘round water,” Gunther whispered, patting Eren’s back. “Ye dun have to go farther, we’ll stay with ye.”

Eld nodded, spinning the oar he still carried to strike the butt of it against the ground. “Don’t worry, Eren, we’ll protect you.”

Eren’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles turning white. He didn’t  _ need  _ protection. Not from the crew, and not from the captain who had ordered it. 

“No,” he spat, louder and with more frustration than he had intended. He almost felt bad — the two of them were only trying to be supportive. “I’m going with him.”

“Eren — ” Gunther tried catching his shoulder, but Eren was determined. 

He wouldn’t be controlled — not by anyone, but  _ especially _ not by humans. He was free to make his own decisions, and he had chosen to protect Levi. Even the man himself couldn’t stop that. 

He pushed past the two of them, plunging into the flooded crawl space. Olou shrieked at the unexpected, somewhat dramatic companionship, but he quickly regathered his wits. A gasp escaped Eren when the water splashed over his skin, so cold and unforgiving to the touch. He shuddered, swallowing down the panic rising within him, and found his footing against the rocky floor. He stood on the tips of his toes, tilting his chin up so as to remain above the water, and waded after the others, after the captain _. His captain. _

Levi had reached the end of the narrow tunnel, pausing only for a moment before grabbing hold of the bank to pull himself out. His clothing dripped, and Eren couldn’t help but think of how the soaked fabric must be clinging to his skin, the muscles on his back —

_ He couldn’t stay with him, _ Eren reminded himself, chastising himself for being foolish. He’d done cruel, vicious things, the very things that had been done to Levi. He didn’t deserve the man. He was a monster. 

“Here, kid,” Levi said, extending a hand after passing his torch to Olou, having seemingly forgotten his own order to remain silent. 

Eren accepted the help, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding once his feet were planted on the ground. He’d never thought he’d feel so relieved to be on land, but the sensation was overwhelming as a hand steadied against his hip and another cupped the side of his face. His cheeks grew warm when he looked at Levi, those silver eyes reflecting the bright hues surrounding them. 

They stood at the edge of a large cavern, blue and green lights spiraling upon its walls. Every surface was illuminated,the pools of water in the cave’s center dotted with the reflection of each shimmering light, a sea-hued constellation contained within a rocky prison. The sound of water falling echoed through the space, but Eren couldn’t see it where it originated from. Everything was still. It was a beautiful tableau, but it made Eren think about how many things in the oceans flashed their shiny scales to hide their teeth. The captain stood as motionless as a painting, and Eren watched as those lips twitched slightly before tugging into that smile that always caught him off guard. He held back a gasp, but it was a difficult feat. 

“It’s almost over,” Levi whispered, that spark of mischief fading from his expression as quickly as it’d appeared. He gave a final affectionate tap to Eren’s cheek, then he turned away. 

The others had joined them and all stood ready, awaiting their next order. None came. Instead Levi moved through the cave alone, stepping towards the still pond in its center. Eren tried to follow, wanting to catch a better glimpse when the man knelt before it, but Petra took hold of his wrist and shook her head. 

The look in her eyes made him need to see what was happening even more. He shifted his weight back and forth, a rather futile attempt to achieve some sort of better viewing angle without actually moving. It was hardly helpful, but that map — its shimmering golden hues distinct in the otherwise blue light — caught his eye, just before Levi dropped it into the water. 

Everything happened quickly after that. The map disappeared, vanished…  _ transformed.  _ It dissolved, pieces flaking away within moments, a spreading curtain of golden speckles turning the surface of the pool brighter than the treasures Levi kept locked away. The water pulsed in shallow waves, spurred from an unseen source. Then at once a bright light flashed, sending Eren’s hands to his unsuspecting eyes as they burned from the assault. He wiped away tears, blinking repeatedly to bring his vision back. When he opened them fully again, he found Levi standing directly before him — the others had already moved away. 

“Eren? Are you alright?” 

The flash hadn’t had an impact on anyone else — if they had even noticed it. 

Levi’s question hung in the air. Still attempting to blink the sting from his eyes, Eren nodded, leaning into the touch when the captain caressed his cheek. “If you’re with me,” he finally answered. 

He was a monster, he  _ knew  _ that. He didn’t deserve the comfort Levi provided… but if the man didn’t care — or, at the very least, if he didn’t  _ know _ — then why should he allow it to divide them?

“I’m not going anywhere, kid.” 

He pulled away, and Eren’s gaze followed Levi’s retreating hand into his coat. A thin cord manifested from an inner pocket, and Levi looped it around something, tying it with fingers deft from years of sailing. He gave a final tug to the knot before grabbing hold of what he’d attached it to. 

A golden key. 

It dangled in front of Eren, dancing with the sparkling cavern light. Its diamond-shaped head grew narrow where Levi pinched it with his fingers, grasping tightly as he cleared his throat. 

“This… This is all that has mattered to me for years, Eren.” He whispered, looking to the floor as he took the cord in both hands. He stepped closer until the two were only inches apart, rising onto the tips of his toes to hang the key around Eren’s neck. “Until now.” 

_ Red _ . 

The color slammed into him as soon as the key touched his skin. It bounced on his chest innocuously as the cord fell easily into place around his neck, just before Eren crumbled to the floors. Hands reached for his ears, attempting to drown those vicious screams in his mind, but they were echoing  _ back and forth, _ taunting him with each frantic breath. 

He wasn’t in the cave. He didn’t know where he was or who he was with or what he was doing there. But he recognized  _ her. _ Who…  _ who was she? _

_ “Here,”  _ he said, unaware that the words were coming from his own mouth. He wiped a crumb from her chin, earning a giggle in response.  _ “Remember your manners, Historia. It’s important that you fit in here.”  _

_ Historia?  _

“Thank you, Frieda!” 

_ Frieda?  _

The navy soldier from Kenny’s lounge. The terror she’d instilled in those few moments when she’d passed him by. The visions, his memories,  _ her memories.  _

_ “The man’s gone rogue,”  _ she said  _ through him _ to a group of strangers. He couldn’t tell how many there were, their faces concealed by shadows in the dimly lit room.  _ “He’s desperate for the Sea King’s power; thinks he’s got a better chance of getting it on his own. Honestly, he probably does.”  _

“So what are we supposed to do about it?” asked the girl — the  _ mer _ — who stepped forward. Light hair framed her face, loose strands swirling in shapes Eren found familiar. 

“We’ll be destroyed if it falls to a human,” another pronounced from the room’s far corner. His glass frames glinted when his chin tilted up, eyes focused on the clasped hands before him. “So we have to find it first.”

The screams grew louder, so loud that they were impossible to escape, searing into his eardrums. His throat burned, spine arching off the rocky floor, and Eren suddenly realized that the screams were coming from  _ him _ . His eyes flew open, the red haze suddenly gone when he saw Levi’s face. The captain was screaming too — _ desperately _ — shaking his shoulders in futile attempts to wake him from where he’d collapsed. 

“Eren!” Levi shrieked his name once more, this time in undisguised relief as he came back to the present, but their reunion was cut abruptly short.

The captain turned, rising to his feet and drawing his blades in a single motion, attention directed to the opposite side of the cave. Olou had drawn his as well, and Petra quickly funnelled a bulb of powder into a large oak pistol, pocketing it to load a second. Eld and Gunther stood ready, their oars flipped around to reveal sharpened iron tips. 

Eren held tight to Levi’s key, ensuring it was still secure around his neck, but panic surged through him when he heard their voices — their  _ warcries, _ growing louder through the tunnels as each moment passed. He may not have known these strangers, but their intentions were obvious as the cavern echoed with wailing and snarls.

“Get ready, Eren!” the captain ordered, his tone unsteady despite the authoritativeness behind his words. 

Levi’s pistol grew heavy in Eren’s coat pocket, and he doubted the cutlass latched to his side would be of better use. There was no way to fight out of this. Five humans, countless mer, and  _ him.  _

He couldn’t fight any of them. 

“What do we do, Captain!?” Petra called out, firearms visibly unsteady in her hands. 

“Just — Just, wait a minute,” he stammered, his grip on a blade loosening as he pressed at his temple. 

Levi always seemed so sure of himself, so strong… but he  _ wasn’t  _ fearless, Eren reminded himself. For all his titanic will, he was just a man. He’d told him many times before, yet it still stung Eren to see him this way: eyes clenched tight, uncontrollable tremors threatening to shake him apart. 

Eren gathered himself to his feet, moving instinctively toward Levi. He reached out for the shorter man’s shoulder, fingers trembling, drawn by the need to feel the heat of his skin, to pull him out of the horrors of his mind.

“Captain!” cried Petra again, her pleas joined by the others as the mers’ voices grew close. 

“What’re your orders?!” 

“We need you!” 

“Captain, please!” 

“Get it together, Levi! You’re a  _ ripper, _ aren’t you?!”

_ A ripper.  _

Eren hadn’t caught who said it, but that hardly mattered. The key around his neck weighed him down like an anchor, dread forming a burning knot in his chest as the words registered. 

_ “He’s not who you think he is.”  _

Mikasa had been right. Eren backed away, his hand falling from where he had reached for the man, for the captain, for Levi...

For the monster. 


	13. The Ripper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHOY! HAPPY SUNDAY! 
> 
> Lucky number 13 ;) Thank you so so much for commenting, kudos(ing), and reading along each week! You all make this such a fun experience <3 
> 
> The biggest thanks in the world to Sidereality for being my lovely beta reader and helping me—this story would not be nearly as exciting without your encouragement and talent <3 
> 
> Also, a friendly heads up: the blood/gore warning is back for this chapter (and probably the next few), so… uh… yeah :^) 
> 
> Enjoy! Good luck! See you next week!

“Well, yer stowaways alright, but even worse than that, yer children.”

The man paced in circles, tipping back his hat to size up the trio where they knelt on the deck with their hands bound before them. The sun beat down viciously, its glare baleful upon skin that had long escaped its view in the shadows. Levi squinted and tried to make out the man’s features, but the shade of the hat prevented him from seeing anything but the most prominent of scars.

“I’m not a kid!” screeched the girl tied next to him, wiggling back and forth to try and break free. 

“Yer a pipsqueak — ”

“What about me? I’m fourteen!” croaked the boy at his other side. “I’m a man!” 

“Well, ye hang out with pipsqueaks!” The man swiped his tattered hat off his head, cackling and exposing a wrinkled face, tanned and weathered from a lifetime under the sun. His jaw shifted, then, suddenly, he spit a wad of tobacco juice from his mouth, sending it splatting to the floorboards. “How ‘bout you, runt? Got nothin’ to say?” 

“That’s Levi!” the girl squawked, writhing even more erratically. “Don’t call him  _ ‘runt!’ _ He’s super strong!” 

“Is that so?” 

Levi’s eyes hadn’t left the globule of tobacco simmering on the wooden floors. It bubbled in the heat, popping over itself before spreading out.

_ Disgusting. _

So focused on suppressing a retch, he hadn’t realized other members of the crew approaching. A knife dipped down and cut his wrist bindings in a smooth motion. Then hands were on his shoulders, dragging him up from his knees to stand. A sailor twirled that same knife in his hands, then he motioned for Levi to take it. 

“Alright,  _ Levi,”  _ resumed the older man. “How ‘bout we have us a little duel.” 

“Wait,” the boy behind him started. “That’s not — ”

“Yeah! Kick his ass, bro!” 

He glanced at the pair still kneeling on the floor, their eyes wide in anticipation. 

“What do we get if I win?” 

“Hah!” his opponent roared, unsheathing a cutlass and pointing the blade at him. “What do you want?” 

“Passage to the new world!” The girl couldn’t contain her excitement as she blurted her answer — she’d barely been able to since they’d first thought up the plan. 

An escape from the slums, the promise of a future,  _ freedom. _

“That’s it?!” The man scoffed, then he lunged toward Levi. The terms of their bet hadn’t yet been agreed, but the cutlass flew at his face, barely missing him by an inch. His reflexes had always been dependable, enough so to warn him of the blade before it could strike. Levi dodged the attack as if he’d had time to prepare, falling to a knee on the disgusting deck and rolling away, popping back up into a ready stance. He gripped the knife, bracing it before him, a small — but manageable — defense against the other’s next attack. 

“Damn, runt! Shit, that wasn’t some joke!” The man threw an arm around his stomach as he laughed. He returned his cutlass to its sheath, then extended his palm. “Kenny Ackerman. It’s a pleasure.”

“Hey, old man.” His voice carried through the air to its recipient, standing at the opposite side of the ship. “Get a look at this.” 

Kenny staggered forward, clapping one hand to Levi’s shoulder and another against the gunwale. He leaned over, sunken eyes following Levi’s pointed finger to the water rolling against the hull. 

“Well, ain’t that cute.” His words were pleasant, but they were delivered in a low growl. 

Below them, a mer clung to the ship’s side, claws embedded deep into the wooden planks. Two smaller creatures grasped at her shoulders, their faces framed by her long hair. Three pairs of eyes stared up at them: wide, uncertain, burning a sickening, unnatural shade of gold. It was as if they’d never seen humans before, as if they didn’t know what to expect next. 

A shot rang beside him, and then they were gone. 

Kenny’s pistol smoldered, thin tendrils of smoke rising from its barrel. The shot had hit — of course it had — but the man aimed it again at the empty water, firing again just for the sake of shooting. 

“ _ That’s _ how you do it, Levi.” He proclaimed, rheumy eyes scintillatingly sharp as he scanned the water. “They’ll try trickin’ ye any chance they can. Don’t get caught up lookin’ at their faces, or listenin’ to their songs.” 

Levi nodded. 

“They’re the apex predator out here. Don’t let ‘em fool you, runt.” 

\- - -

Shrieks coming from all directions. Water splashing in the crawl space — they would have left the way they came, but it was occupied now. He scanned the cavern for another escape route, for some way out of this nightmare, eyes darting back and forth in hopes of finding something he might have previously missed. 

“Captain!” 

He had to ignore them. He couldn’t get distracted. He needed to focus, to come up with some sort of plan. That pounding in his temples drowned out the others’ words, their pleas for him to give them _some_ sort of order. His breath grew sharp and unsteady, and he felt the entire cavern give way around him as his body trembled out of control. 

The mer were coming closer, heralded by their ravenous wails. They’d arrive any minute, sweeping in through tunnels, scales rasping over soaked cavern floors. Then the beasts would pick them off one by one, rend them limb from limb. 

It had happened before, and there was nothing they could do to stop it from happening now.

“We need you!” 

“Captain, please!” 

“Get it together, Levi! You’re a  _ ripper, _ aren’t you?!”

_ A ripper.  _

_ A hunter. _

_ A predator. _

Hundreds of monsters had been slaughtered at their hands, thousands of teeth and scales pawned off to the higher classes, the lavish exchange rewarding them with a fortune of jewels. Their notoriety had been well earned, enough so for even the navy to take notice. 

Mer hunting was a simple trade, but — more than that — it was the very core of Levi’s being. Mer may have had an undeniable advantage over humans — claws and teeth and the ability to  _ drown  _ them — but he was no ordinary man. He’d spent years on open waters, countless nights and days with  _ them _ , training specifically to combat the sea demons, to kill at first glance.

Levi’s eyes shot open. The crew stood some distance ahead, weapons drawn and ready, still waiting for his command. 

“Fall back!” He called over the noise flooding into the room. “Get behind me!” 

His crew did as instructed, sprinting away from the openings in the cavern walls. Levi’s grip tightened on his blades. He readied the swords at his sides as the others fled, drawing in a deep, shaky breath.

“Back there,” he said, pointing to the corner farthest from the influx of mer. “We can climb up that ridge — go!” 

Lithe, scaled bodies were still spilling into the space, surging over the floors where they piled on top of each other like writhing fish upturned from a net. Even on the flat rock the mer moved fast, a heaving wave of primal danger rising toward them. 

Levi trailed the others, a frantic mother hen shepherding the chicks ahead of her, but something was wrong. He didn’t need to do a headcount to know who had fallen behind. Rather, who hadn’t even moved. 

Air caught in his throat. Every muscle in his body tensed as the scene unfolded before him. It was one he’d seen before. It couldn’t be happening now. 

Not again. Not to  _ him. _

The captain leapt into the mer’s path before it could lay a claw on Eren. He took the hit, claws catching his shoulder blade, dragging down and tearing a lengthy slash of muscle and skin. The pain prompted a sharp cry, but Levi’s instincts and reflexes were no stranger to acting in the face of injury. 

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, sparking enough energy for his counterattack. With the swing of a single blade, he sliced through the mer’s wrist, severing it from the rest of its arm. It screamed, back arched at the sudden assault. Its surprise gave way for Levi’s next blow — a quick strike to the base of its neck. 

It toppled over, defeated, lifeless, thin strings of tissue all that held its head to its form. Pride welled within the ripper. A mer was dead, another monster gone, but he didn’t have time to linger in such satisfaction. He struck down the next attacker, then another after that, blocking the creatures’ path to Eren. 

_ “Brat!”  _ he hissed, yanking the other’s arm to pull him toward the crew. Eren immediately tripped over himself, those unbalanced legs failing the kid even now, and Levi turned to catch his waist before he could fall. 

Emerald hues shone with unshed tears. His eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed, and he pulled away from Levi’s touch.

_ Shit. _

He should have expected this. 

Eren had rejected him only hours before, he reminded himself. Those moments in the keep had seemed so promising, but now it was obvious just how mistaken he’d been. Eren wanted to leave the  _ Sinna,  _ and _ he wanted to leave Levi...  _ yet now the man was responsible for dragging him into — of all horrific places — a nest.

He knew little of the other’s past. He hadn’t wanted to press the questions that Eren couldn’t answer, or try to discern what was too painful to recall. For all Levi knew, his companion might have never even seen a mer before, and stories and legends did little to prepare someone for encountering them in the flesh: snarling faces that looked uncannily human, foaming saliva dripping from their fanged mouths, burning, unnatural golden eyes… they were the most horrific of nature’s monsters, and the cries escaping Eren assured Levi that he agreed. 

He should have forced him to stay on the  _ Sinna _ _ — _ _ he _ was the captain, after all. He’d been elected to lead the crew, to make the difficult decisions. The brat could barely keep his balance as they sprinted toward the others. Levi shouldn’t have allowed him anywhere near somewhere like this. 

“Hurry!” Petra screamed, already perched on top of the ledge. She reached for Olou and pulled him up as Eld and Gunther hoisted him off the ground. The man slipped against the damp rocks, but the others caught him and managed to push him on top. A hand reached out, ready to help whoever was next, and, when they got close enough, Levi threw Eren into it.

His eyes caught Levi’s, and his face twisted with an emotion Levi couldn’t quite place. That crease between his brows deepened, bloodshot eyes dark in the blue cavern light, and his lips twitched as if he had something to say. He didn’t, though — or if he did, he chose not to share. The men hoisted him up, and Levi shifted his attention to the creatures that demanded it. 

In a flurry of blades and slashed flesh, Levi pushed the horde of mer back. When one slumped against the floors, defeated, another took its place. But he persisted, ignoring the stinging on his skin whenever a monster got too close. 

“Cap’n!” Gunther howled, lunging forward to strike down attackers with the end of his spear. Levi was hardly able to hear his voice over the shrill hissing of the mer, but it didn’t impede his companion. The man stepped forward, pushing his captain back to where Eld waited to help him up. They’d executed their plan perfectly, without asking him, knowing Levi would be the last to reach safety if he had any say in it. He was flung up, almost on top of the ridge as soon as Eld grabbed him. He sheathed one of his blades, ready to accept Petra’s reaching hand, just before teeth sunk into his leg. 

The monsters were a relentless ocean, blinding fins writhing to get near them, an impending tide that didn’t abate. And despite everything, they had reached them. Gunther disappeared, lost beneath a wave of fangs and talons, and Eld was faring just as miserably. He hoisted the captain up and fought off another monster, somehow managing to keep the beast from taking hold, but it didn’t release its teeth from Levi’s calf until the man stuck a blade in its eye himself.

Olou had joined Petra at the edge of the ridge, and together they pulled the captain up. Once stable against the surface, Levi lunged back toward the open air, grabbing hold of Eld’s shoulder to help him on top of the rock.

“Gunther!” Eld cried, searching blindly over the thrashing sea below. But there was no familiar voice raised in reply, only the fevered screams of monsters with no pity, and Levi felt himself drowning in those memories, pulled down into the dark. 

_ This was supposed to be different.  _

They needed to move, yet his body refused to cooperate. His leg crumpled beneath him, and he fell to his knees as aches shot from the bite. Every moment spent cramped on the ledge was one where the mer drew closer. 

Levi didn’t have the luxury to grieve — or to even spare himself a moment to feel the pain. He  _ knew  _ that, so he shook himself off and scanned his surroundings for their next move; thankfully, it seemed that the ledge could deposit them into another opening several meters below. But he also found something else as he examined his surroundings, something he did not understand. 

Eren stared forward into middle space, back against a rock. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his entire body shaking with each shallow breath. His brows were furrowed, his entire face flushed, and — most bizarrely — he had bitten into his hand, still pressed against his mouth, with enough force to draw his own blood. It flowed in streams down his wrist, dripping into a small pool on the ground. 

How long had he just been standing there like that? 

“You shitty brat!” Levi cursed, bum leg sending him to the ground when he attempted to rush forward. Petra was there to catch him, just as he had caught Eren many times before. She wrapped an arm under his equally brutalized shoulder, forcing him to swallow a wince of pain. Agony radiated through his body, mind finally registering where his flesh had been torn. He groaned when Olou took his other side, but he’d been through this before, and these wounds weren’t the worst he’d experienced. 

Eren stiffened and leaned back, as if to put more distance between himself and the crew. He stumbled in place, feet slipping against the slick rocks as his second hand came up and jerked his hair. Taking staggered, painful steps, Levi stared at the man, his mind reeling in shock and confusion. The key glistened where it hung around his neck, and a pang shot through the captain.

All he cared for, all he had ever  _ wanted _ , lay with Eren — who had stood back to watch them die. 

“Kid,” he said, the word escaping him in an exhale when his companions helped him hobble closer. Eren didn’t move away from the wall, but those eyes—those damn eyes — met Levi’s, overwhelming him with the desire to reach out even though  _ he _ was the one on the verge of collapse. “What the hell are you — ”

“Ack!” Eld’s scream rang behind them as mer reached the top of the ledge, pulling themselves up onto the surface. He drove his spear through a fin and rushed forward to the captain’s side as the injured mer wailed.

Eren’s eyes gawked widely at the scene, frozen up against the wall, his tears threatening to spill over again. The kid couldn’t fall behind now. He had to get him — get  _ all _ of them — out of the labyrinth alive. He willed his throbbing leg into submission, gritting his teeth and stepping away from Olou and Petra to grab hold of Eren’s hand. The other reached for Eren’s cheek, wandering up through the soft locks of his hair. 

“It’s alright, Eren,” he said, trying to meet those eyes. “I’ll protect you.” 

Levi shoved him into the others then drew his blades from their sheaths. “Go!” he yelled, ordering them to the other side of the ledge before diving into the ocean of mer. 

\- - - 

The captain — the  _ ripper _ _ — _ fulfilled the role of his title with ease. 

The man — the  _ ripper _ _ — _ struck down dozens of mer without a second glance, without a moment of hesitation, without a single regret. 

Everything made sense now. Mikasa and Armin had been right to try to keep him away. They’d only wanted to protect him — that’s all they’d ever done — and they’d whispered their warnings at every chance they could get.

But he hadn’t heard them. He hadn’t  _ wanted  _ to hear them. Every warning, every  _ hint,  _ echoed through his mind, and even the melody they’d shared couldn’t tune them out. 

Screams filled his ears instead. Each move was horrifyingly mesmerizing as the ripper performed his work, cutting down any that dared come close. His tools were a grisly caricature of the bright and radiant blades Eren had first admired. Their silver edges split bone and sinew, slicing through them in a steady rainfall of flesh. He bit into his hand harder, but his already tenuous control over himself waned further when someone touched his shoulder. 

“Eren,” Petra’s voice was already unsteady, but it turned to a scream when he lunged forward, toppling her to the ground. Teeth bared, he snarled, poised over her — ready and  _ desperate _ to attack. It’d be so easy, so  _ simple  _ to appease his appetite; she was defenseless in his grasp. Anticipation pulsed through him, red clouding his sight. 

He could do it. She was human. He was mer. They were  _ all  _ monsters. But an elbow struck the back of his skull, and strong hands pulled him off of her. 

“Get ahold of yourself!” Olou shrieked as he reached an arm around Petra to help her back up. 

“C’mon!” Eld dragged Eren to the opposite side of the ledge. “Let’s go, Levi!” 

_ Levi. _

Silver eyes looked back, only for a moment, catching Eren’s before the man diverted his gaze to the throng of mer. But even a single moment lost was too much. An approaching mer caught the captain’s ankle, sending him hard onto the ground. His skull hit the rock surface. Then he lay there, motionless, a dark puddle forming beneath his head.

The weight of Levi’s pistol left his pocket. Eren aimed the readied weapon, recalling each step the captain had shown him about lining up a shot — almost feeling that familiar touch against his skin — then he fired. The bullet tunneled into the center of the mer’s chest, sending her back at once. The kick jabbed into Eren’s shoulder, but he took the brief opening, sprinting toward the man who lay bleeding on the ground. 

“Levi!” he cried, rushing over the slippery floors as he freed his cutlass. Another mer crawled onto the ledge, eyes wide and fangs bared, ready to claim a taste of the man. Eren tried to look away as he plunged the blade into her, tried not to see the look of terror on her face, but it was useless. He released his grip on the handle when his victim fell away, and the pistol dropped from his other hand. Falling to his knees, ignoring the sting of his skin impacting wet gravel, he wrapped his arms around Levi’s tattered body, attempting to get him off the ground. 

The wounds were merciless. Dozens of lacerations littered his skin, blood freely flowing from each of them. Eren bit his tongue as his mouth watered, scent of the blood fresh, the desire to  _ feast _ overwhelming every sense. 

The man wheezed, eyes fluttering open just for a second. “Eren,” he croaked, but then he was gone, limp in the other’s arms as he faded to unconsciousness. 

Eren dragged him backward, away from the edge where clawed hands grasped at the air, working to lift the seemingly endless wave of mer toward their prey, and cursed himself for allowing such temptations to nearly take hold. Eld joined him after retrieving the captain’s blades from the floor, grabbing Levi’s other flank to help them stagger to the back of the ledge, where the surface sloped toward another opening in the rock wall. Petra fired a pistol, taking down whoever was pursuing them, while Olou sent knives hurling in the same direction.

“It’s a long way down!” Petra called, rushing over to peer down the rocky ridge, her voice muted by cries from the mer. “The tide is high. It’s completely flooded!” 

“But it’s our best chance!” Olou continued. 

“It’s our  _ only  _ chance!” Eld affirmed.

They all jumped, their bodies plummeting down and out of view in an instant. It was another cave, another part of the nest, bordered with water pouring in from above and a deep bank awaiting them below. He might’ve feared what would happen when the sea took her hold, but he could only focus on the shrill, smiling faces jumping in after them. 

Everything ached when he smacked against the water’s surface. His eyes, beaten from the fresh sting of salt, searched for the others as he sank, but it was as if they’d abandoned him, as if he was completely alone. Dozens of bodies followed a moment after, the bubbles whirling around Eren making it impossible to see. Then golden eyes were directly in front of him, and the water he drew in burned like a flame as it travelled down his throat. 

Thrashing his arms, kicking his legs: none of it mattered. Even if he  _ had _ been able to swim in this form, something took hold of his ankle and dragged him down. Claws sunk deeper into his skin, pushing past his muscles and tendons until they gripped the bone. The throb shot up his leg, rendering the feeble appendage even more useless. He bit hard into his tongue, silencing his scream to avoid taking in more water. 

But what was the use? 

It wasn’t as if he could drown — nature thought that too merciful a fate for him. Instead he was sentenced to such pain, such torture, inescapable even in life’s kindest moments. 

What a fool he had been to fantasize of a life amongst the creatures he’d been created to torment. He could never live amongst them. He could never be with Levi. He couldn’t drown. He couldn’t die. 

Yet, as red flowed in the sea of carnage surrounding him, a silver ring standing out from the vivid hues, Eren realized that he didn’t want to.

A deep breath sent water straight into his lungs. He forced it down despite the urge to choke it back up, and closed his eyes. The ocean swallowed him into her embrace, drowning the self pity he’d allotted himself. Bones shattered. Muscles ripped apart, tearing and rearranging. The mer scattered like scared minnows, unsure of what was taking place as his screams shot through the water. Then all was still. 

Golden eyes shot open, burning and desperate to find his crew.

Eren made for the surface, mustering as much strength as he could. He broke through, hoping to take in a fresh breath and get the lay of the land, as it were, but he was met with a fin to the face instead. The mer were in a frenzy, writhing and sending great arcs of water into the air as snarls echoed through the cave. They had turned on one another — each desperate to claim the sailors for themself. 

“There he is!” It was Olou’s voice travelling over the splashing. He clung to a rock jutting out above the water, swinging his blade as a mer approached, but the woman at his side fired a bullet into the creature’s head before his hit struck. 

“Eren!” Petra called, gaze set on him. But he couldn’t look at her, not after catching sight of  _ that _ . 

Eld teetered atop a rock, hunched over, hands pressed firmly together as they pushed down at a measured beat against the captain’s chest. Levi lay flat, mouth agape and motionless, so frail and small compared to those ready to attack him. Eren’s pulse tripped over itself, a panic unlike any that he’d felt before surging through his veins. Eld didn’t know the danger they were in. 

A mer crawled up the rock’s opposite side, lunging forward suddenly with a thrash of her tail to grab hold of Eld’s neck, flinging the man’s body against the jagged surface before dragging him down. 

“Eld!” Petra screamed, so focused on her fallen comrade that she missed sight of another mer emerging behind her. 

Eren plowed through the water, desperate to get to them in time. Maybe he was too late to help Eld, but surely… surely Olou could save Petra, and if not, then maybe  _ he  _ could. Olou’s sword caught the mer’s side, but his efforts did little to prevent Petra from being pulled under. Her screams echoed before she went beneath the surface, and the man braced himself, then jumped in after her. Eren dove down, searching through the blinding red in hopes of finding his crewmates. 

But they were already gone. 

“Petra!” he called out frantically when he made it back above water. “Olou! Eld! Gunth — ”

He had allowed this to happen. He had done nothing, and now they were lost to the sea, to the curse of his kind’s insatiable hunger. But there was still one more person. 

“Levi!” he cried, grabbing hold of the rock that the other mer had already begun scaling. 

They were all desperate, driven wild by the amount of fresh prey that had come to their home. They wanted — _ needed _ _ — _ a taste of the man, but their hunger was incomparable to Eren’s sensations. Every desire, both innate to his species and his own, overpowered him, and he lunged onto the bodies hovering over Levi, ripping and tearing and fighting to get to his captain. He pushed the other mer away, ignoring the laws and the warnings about infringing on another’s meal. It didn’t matter — none of it did. 

All he cared about was Levi, and all he could see was red.

The sweet, coppery scent filled his nostrils, its alluring fragrance too much to take as he drew close. Eren couldn’t hold back. In another place and time, the motion of his hand could be described as tender. He reached out, and his claws cut into the skin near the man’s temple, down past his eye and into the warm pocket of flesh of his cheek; blood spilled forth, coating his hand in the color he was unable to resist. His body heaved forward, and all he wanted was a taste, a bite, to satisfy the need raging inside —

Teeth bit into Eren’s shoulder. A shallow cry escaped him as his razor focus snapped. He sent his talons for the attacker, catching a handful of the skin on their back, then he pushed them away with what strength he could manage. 

The mer had collected in full force. They writhed over themselves in waves, crashing against the side of the rock. Smiling faces looked his way, hardly distinguishable from the ones around them, each face twisted in identical rictuses of hunger. Saliva oozed from their fangs, some mixed with strings of blood — blood that had belonged to his crew, to his  _ friends _ . 

The creatures were terrifying. They were  _ monsters _ _ — _ even Eren knew that was true. He knew that of himself. But so were the rippers, so were the humans, so was the man he held tightly in his arms. He pulled Levi close, the tattered mess of his cheek sending an ache through Eren. He’d lost control. He’d let this happen. He couldn’t do it again.

His voice rumbled in his throat, echoing from deep within his chest. The warning was clear, threatening vicious retribution should any even try to take what was his, and the hordes of mer had no choice but to listen. 

This prey had been claimed. 


	14. The Longest Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello me mateys <3
> 
> Hopefully we’re all *kinda* alive after last week’s update :,) I’ve been really excited for this chapter since the beginning, and I expect it’ll answer some of your questions! 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your feedback, comments, kudos, and for reading this story! An extra big thanks to my beta Sidereality for all of their incredible suggestions and help <3
> 
> That’s enough from me. Enjoy, and I’ll see you next Sunday!

The force of the gale whipped against his skin, heavy and ferocious as a cat o’ nine tails wielded by the storm. He held tight to the ship’s rain-slick wheel, anchoring himself down from nature’s assault. Levi caught the silhouettes of the pair manning the sails in the lantern light, but only a second before a blast fired, the whistle of a soaring cannon ball ringing in his ears. Then he was down, his body thudding against the floor. Exposed hands burned raw against the wood grain. A groan escaped as he pulled up his legs, his whole body aching from the impact of the fall, but he couldn’t hear himself over the cries echoing from the front of the ship. 

He crawled towards them, skin stinging as it caught the splintered deck. The boy hunched over the girl, as he had done so many times to soothe her scraped knees when they were children, but now she held tight to a bleeding leg, rocking back and forth.

“Levi,” the other started over the girl’s shaky cries, his voice barely audible through the howling winds. “The bone, I think—I think it’s broken.” 

Another blast. Another whistle of a projectile cutting through the air. The smell of wet sulfur as fire licked at the wood. The ship rocked before the mast post split, cracking in its center before crumbling apart. The planks rumbled beneath them when it collided, and Levi met the pair’s worried—no, _terrified_ _—_ eyes.

“That bastard,” he cursed, inching closer to examine the girl’s injuries. Blood soaked through the tattered fabric covering her shin, a gruesome simulacrum of a calf. Her leg wasn’t broken—it’d been caught on a wood spike, been stuck completely through, the muscle torn apart. “Shit…”

“Maybe,” she spoke up, biting hard at her lip. “We should just go with them. Maybe we should give up.” 

“No.” That wasn’t an option. “This is _everything.”_

It was what _they_ had wanted, after all. He gathered himself and stood, ready to take hold of the cutlass latched to his side.

“Wait, what are you planning to do? We’re going down, Levi! The navy is our only choice—“

“There’s always another choice.”

“ _But we have nowhere to go!_ ”

White sails soared behind them, prowling closer to the back of the ship. The navy made no secret of their trajectory, a predator in its ineffable approach, a phantom in the darkness of night. The turbulent sea was made of white-capped peaks and yawning crevasses, ready to tear them apart and sweep them away. Perhaps the others were right—they were trapped. 

But then, through the rain and crumbling debris, a solid form took shape ahead of them. Large, unmoving, somewhere close in the distance. It was an island of sorts. A rocky protrusion from the turbulent sea that promised at least an inlet, if not a _cave._

“Straight ahead,” Levi proclaimed, extending a finger to point in its direction. “Look, a strike of luck.”

“Bro, I don’t think this is a good idea—”

“Isabel,” he started, kneeling before his companions once more. “Farlan.”

The pursuit had left them battered—devastated—their skin bruised and bodies broken. Hands twisted at the soiled fabric on Isabel’s leg, her other foot jiggling to offset her anxious, pained energy. Tears streamed down dirtied cheeks, barely distinguishable from the torrents of rain, and her hair had been pulled almost completely free of her pigtails. 

Farlan’s chest rose and fell in rapid patterns. The crease between his brows was the most prominent evidence that fear had taken hold. A cut bled down his jaw. The night had been so long that Levi couldn’t even remember how it had gotten there. 

But it wasn’t over yet.

“Sail for those caves, take shelter there.” He stood, gripping tight to the cool handle of his cutlass. “I’m finishing this.”

Then he sprinted toward the ship approaching their flank, ignoring their cries for him to stay. He dared not look back; the terror plaguing their eyes might have been enough to convince him to turn around, to listen to reason, to join the navy. He couldn’t do that. They needed him, and he needed to protect them. 

That servant boy he had caught staring at the sea so long ago, the look in his tired eyes begging for escape. That ratty girl who’d picked an unfair fight on the streets, thinking her temper could outmatch his skill. Those two—his friends, his _family_ _—_ they weren’t destined for the military, for a life obeying someone else’s whims, not when they were together, not when they were _free._

He grabbed hold of a rope tied to the bow’s front sail, ignoring the burn of it on his bare hands. A flash of lightning lit the sky, blowing his cover as he swung across the empty space between the two ships. He moved quickly, standing at full length once his feet landed on the enemy’s floors. 

Thunder followed the lightning strike, slamming into him in beautiful concert with the full brunt of an attacker’s fist. Levi dodged the next attack, ignoring the pain aching through his ribs from being hit by the first. He dropped to a knee, searching blindly for his opponent in the dark. Nature took pity on him then, another flash revealing someone ahead.

“I assume you’re the leader,” the other man said, hand nonchalantly extended before him. “Levi Ackerman, correct?”

He kept his mouth shut, unwilling to participate in such formalities. Levi leapt forward instead, holding tight to his blade, ready to plunge it into the man who had stalked them across the seas. One strike—that’s all it would take. He needed one solid strike to end this pursuit and secure their freedom. 

The shadow stepped away before he could. The very scale of his body was so massive he almost seemed like an island himself, but he maneuvered the battle like a man with half his bulk, as if nothing weighed him down, nothing held him back. His skill was undeniable, the fluidity of each move matching even Levi’s. 

Levi staggered, uncertainty rising up from his stomach and swirling in his chest. Wide eyes shot to his opponent, just in time to catch the blade swinging in his direction, pushing hard into his when he parried. He stepped back, unable to keep such a force away, but the other did not waver. He stepped in unison, pushing relentlessly closer. 

This man wouldn’t defeat him—he _couldn’t,_ not when they had come so far. Levi kicked up, knocking both of their swords out of their hands. Then he pulled a knife from his belt and thrust it forward, fully aware how impossible it’d be to stop this attack. 

And yet... he did. 

A hand caught Levi’s, stopping the momentum of his blade before it could strike the center of the other’s chest. Levi nudged the knife forward, pushing it with all of his strength until the tip scratched past the weave of the navy coat. Large hands kept him steady, _in place,_ preventing Levi from stabbing it into him and finally ending his pursuit. 

“Levi,” the voice sounded above the thunder, over the pounding drops of rain landing on the deck. 

He finally looked at the man, having to tilt his chin up just to see where the corners of his mouth twitched, satisfaction taking shape in a smile, and his eyes reflected the lantern glow.

“Please, I’d like you to listen to what I have to say.”

“Commander!” someone shouted in the distance. A man dripping from the rain emerged from the darkness, hands swinging overhead to make his presence known. 

“Erwin!” A second figure rushed at them, and she pushed past the other to get close. 

“Hanji, I told you to leave this to me—” 

“But—But Sir!” Resumed the other man, whose shaky grip revealed a bronze spyglass. “It’s the rippers… we—we can’t follow them anymore.” 

Hanji took hold of the knife and pushed it down, away from Erwin’s chest with surprising strength. Then she turned, addressing only Levi, the fogged lenses of her glasses catching a glint of light. “They’re sailing into a _nest_!”

There were few creatures to fear on the seas, few creatures who made _nests_ , especially at its surface. The panic in her eyes informed him of the danger, and made him realize what he had done. 

“Hey! Come on, ripper guy! Snap out of it!” 

Levi pushed away her shaking hands, unsure of when they’d been placed on his shoulders, then he rushed to the gunwale, eyes scanning the horizon. The cave—the _nest_ , of course it was, how often were rock formations like this left abandoned? He should have known it was _theirs_ —was straight ahead, several hundred meters in the distance, its rocky walls illuminated by a blurry wash of flames from the battered ship berthed hastily at its mouth. His vision clouded, and his pulse seemed to have stopped entirely; the scene before him couldn’t be real. 

The voices, the laugher, the _singing_ echoed through the air as he dove from the ship. He cut through the brine, taking in sharp breaths with each stroke, ignoring the burn of salt in his eyes. The fire blazing on the ship could only keep the monsters away for so long. He had to reach it first. He had to get to them. He’d been a fool to believe in something like luck—she was never on his side. 

There was only a short distance left to swim when over the sound of rain hitting the water, over thunder clamoring in the skies, over the mersongs crying out ahead, he heard her scream.

“Isabel!” He screamed back, pausing to scan the ship for any sign of her. She didn’t appear, and his throat grew tight. “Isabel!” he cried again, resuming his path through the turbulent waves. 

Another scream.

“Farlan!” Levi shouted. They were so close, yet completely unreachable. He treaded water as he stopped to look again, struggling to stay above the rapid sea.

Then he saw them. 

Farlan had hauled her over his shoulder, carrying her body to the back of the ship. He leaned over the rails, seeming to be searching for an escape—but there wasn’t one to find. Mer clung to the ship’s sides, dozens climbing up the hull, pulling each other down in attempts to get closer. The water surrounding them seethed with as much rapidity as the storm waves, those that weren’t scaling the burning ship caught in a frenzy at its surface. They were waiting for scraps—they were waiting for his _family_ , and some had even heard him calling out for them apparently, swimming away from the masses in his direction.

Levi paid the approaching mer little notice, his eyes locked solely on the pair. Isabel remained slumped against Farlan’s shoulder, and then Farlan’s hand reached out, the corners of his mouth tugging as if he had something to say, as if he could see Levi—

Darkness surrounded him. 

Claws sunk deep into his back, tearing through his clothes, his skin, the owner dragging him into the depths. The ocean swallowed his screams, seawater stinging in the exposed wounds, and he choked desperately for air.

He was only distantly aware of golden eyes meeting his, burning through the dark, but he wasn’t looking at what was before him. In his mind’s eye, there was only the image of his friends, of his _family,_ stuck in a tableau set moments before the mer reached the deck and tore them apart. 

He had no weapons, no tool for defense, but his body acted without needing his permission. Instincts took control, and he reached for the mer in front of him, grabbing hold of its throat. Legs kicked, striking at the swarm of monsters surrounding him, then he took his captured mer’s wrist and slashed its claws at the others. 

There was just enough time for him to break free and make for the surface, but his temples pounded, his chest ached, and he felt himself grow wearier by the moment. He held his breath, trying to avoid taking in more water, but it was a difficult feat. His mind grew hazy. His limbs became lead, his grip slackening on the mer. The cacophony of monstrous cries filled his ears as his eyelids fell shut. He reached a hand toward the surface, through the faint firelight gleaming on the silver bubbles of air rising, though there was little point when he had no hope of reaching it.

They were gone. They were lost to the ocean, to its monsters, just like he would soon be. His goals, _their dreams,_ were bones sinking in the water, a ship wrecked by the storm. His muscles relaxed, tension fleeing from his shoulders. He let himself fall forward, slumping in on himself. 

He’d been fighting for so long just for the sake of survival. And survive he had, but he hadn’t _lived._ Not until meeting them, not until their time together. 

But time had run short, and it was over now.

The monsters reclaimed his back, and the sting of their claws tearing at his flesh was little compared to the horrors drowning his mind, even as he finally opened his mouth and exhaled the last of his air, his will. _They could have him_. 

Something took hold of his outstretched hand, and before his eyes could even open to see, he was back above the surface, held in another’s arms. 

The commander had pulled Levi free of the monsters, had forced him out of the dark. An arm clung to his abused body, the other hand gripped tightly around a rope. “Now!” He shouted, and those on board the ship heaved them up. 

Water escaped Levi’s lungs in a torrent; he choked up mouthfuls of it, desperate to breathe, chest heaving in rampant quakes as his mind reeled over what was happening. The wounds on his back demanded all of his attention, pain coursing through every muscle in his body, yet he couldn’t help but stare at the other man: brows plummeted, firelight in the distance burning within the depths of those eyes. Their gazes met for only a second, then Erwin’s face twisted into an expression of agony. 

Teeth bit deep into Erwin’s arm, claws taking hold on either side of the creature’s face. It was ruthless, _determined,_ as the storm raged around them. Erwin’s strength didn’t falter; he didn’t release the rope or the man in his arms. Pain and confusion cloaked Levi’s senses, delaying his response, but when the silhouette took shape, when he realized _what it was,_ his pain and anger swung forward, striking—and shattering—the glasses on the monster’s face.

It fell away, back into the sea that it haunted, and the crew pulled Levi and Erwin onto the ship.

\- - - 

He leaned forward, forehead pressed to his knees, eyes shutting out the filthy prison cell. Its door creaked open, and—as he had so often done during his weeks spent there—he ignored the sound of the dinner plate clanking against the ground. Or he would have, but it didn’t come. 

“Yeesh, you’ve seen better days,” the woman started when he finally looked up at her. She held a hand to her hip, and the other nudged the man at her side. “Don’t ya think so, Moblit?”

Moblit fumbled with the cell keys, glancing warily at the prisoner before shaking his head. Hanji laughed, striking her knee as she gripped at her stomach. 

“Don’t be so nervous! He’s not going to hurt you—just look at him! He couldn’t even if he tried!” 

His injuries might have healed faster if he’d been granted access to the infirmary, but those in charge would have preferred he hang from the gallows, much less take up more medical supplies than were needed to keep him alive. So here he remained: alone in the cell, waiting for a medic to change his bandages, waiting for a plate of stale food to clank against the stone, waiting for his ‘saviors’ to tell him more of their ludicrous plans, waiting for his final sentence.

Hanji continued laughing, ignoring Moblit’s gaping mouth as he pocketed the keys and bolted out. 

“So you’re my executioner,” Levi said, eyeing Hanji as she kneeled before him. 

“You really are grumpy today.” She extended a palm, a wide grin stretching across her face. “The conference went better than we could have hoped—the council agreed to our terms!” 

“They did?” He accepted her help standing up, uncertain why the pit in his stomach was growing with this revelation. If their terms were accepted, then he’d officially enlisted—his life had been spared.

“Sure did. You’re stuck with us for good now, grouchy.” 

Hanji led him out of the prison block, and he followed willingly—free for the first time of his typical restraints. She whistled an off pitch tune as they journeyed through the compound, passing by the dining hall, the barracks, the infirmary, finally stopping at a pair of oak doors—a single entrance located in a long expanse of hallway. 

“I’d love to show you around, since you’re technically not a captive anymore,” Hanji said, another round of giggles threatening to overtake her. “But we’ll save that for another time. He wants to see you.”

“How is he?” Levi whispered, eyes falling to the marble floors.

“Don’t worry about that,” Hanji said. “I’m serious. Just… go in there, and try to enjoy yourself, okay? But not too much! You’re both still pretty beat up, so _that_ wouldn’t end well.” She struck her knee again, quieting her laughter before lifting a finger to her chin. “Actually, on second thought that might be kind of—” 

“Hanji—”

Her fist struck the doors, knocking harder with each beat, then she galloped off the way that they came. “Have _fun,_ Levi! I want all the details!” 

Silence fell over him once she was gone, then a voice from inside said, “come in.”

Levi drew a deep breath, the air shallow in his lungs. He clenched shaking fists at his sides, then he forced one to grip the bronze handle, to open the door and follow the command.

Perhaps it was the covered dining plates resting on the table, or the candlesticks burning in the room’s farthest corner. The scent of cinnamon and pine wafted over him, reminding Levi just how much time had passed since he’d last eaten. 

“Levi. Thank you for coming.”

His gaze shifted to the windows, at least three stretching from floor to ceiling. Color filtered into the space from the sunset, burnt clouds and the dying sun reflecting brightly off a distant sea. The right panel was cracked open, allowing a breeze inside, and a large shadow stood beside it. 

Levi stepped forward as if hypnotized by the scene. So much time had passed in his cell without even the opportunity to step outside. The image of the sky meeting the ocean was nothing short of breathtaking, and it lured him to the other man’s side.

“I assume Hanji informed you that our proposal was accepted.” 

“Yes,” Levi said, his gaze finally wandering to his companion. A smile tugged at the other’s lips, and Levi followed the corners to his eyes—tired and swollen, but still sparkling like the sea. Then he caught sight of the knot tied at his coat sleeve, a pang striking the center of his chest. Levi’s eyes fell away at once, skittering to the sunset before dropping to study patterns on the carpet. 

“I thought it’d be appropriate to celebrate,” Erwin said, palming Levi’s shoulder. “You’re a free man, after all.” 

“Free _under your command,_ right?” 

“That is correct.” He turned, taking large steps toward the dining table. “So, I _command_ you to be free… within reason, of course.”

He pulled a chair out, motioning for his guest to sit. Levi did as the commander expected, swallowing a gasp when his wounds touched the backrest. 

Erwin sat across from Levi, then he reached over the table to uncover his meal. The scent was overwhelming, a dinner in a whole other league to the stale bread rolls rationed by his guards. His mouth watered at the sight, his stomach growled in agreement, and he quickly took hold of his dining set.

“Levi,” Erwin tipped a glass of amber wine in his direction. “Please, eat your fill.” 

That was an order he could follow. He stabbed into the slice of meat with quick precision. The lush yellow of an egg yolk spilled over his plate, glossing the potatoes and ham. He took a large bite, allowed the food to melt over his tongue, then he swallowed it down, fully aware just how much more he needed to truly fill his stomach. A few more bites, then he realized that the room—aside from the sounds of his rushed chewing—had gone silent. 

“Thank you.” Levi patted a napkin to his mouth, careful to swallow his bite before speaking. “This is delicious.” 

“I’m glad you enjoy it,” Erwin chuckled, taking a sip from his glass. “You’re my first guest in some time. It’s always a pleasure to cook for friends and… acquaintances.” 

“You did this _yourself?”_

As if in response to his question, a kettle whistled from the far side of the room. “Oh!” Erwin stood at once, rushing for the iron pot boiling over a flame. He carried it back to the table, setting it down to grab a small tin. “I’d nearly forgotten. You’ve mentioned a liking for black tea, yes?” 

“Y-Yes,” Levi stuttered. “How did you—” 

“Brilliant!” Erwin opened the container, grabbing hold of a spoon from his dining set and sprinkling crushed leaves into a pair of cups. He filled one of them with hot water then nudged it toward him. Accepting the gesture, Levi took hold of the cup’s rim and allowed himself a taste.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Levi said, setting the steaming cup beside the rest of his meal. 

“I want you to feel welcome.”

“Do you prepare supper for every recruit?” 

“Yours isn’t the typical recruitment.” 

Levi nodded, picking up a teaspoon. If nothing else, that was something he and the commander agreed on. 

“All is as we had hoped, Levi. Soon enough we’ll begin the search for the map, and you’ll captain your own ship.” 

The hand stirring his tea stilled. This hadn’t been mentioned before. 

“I’ll _what?”_

“It was part of my proposal,” Erwin stated, a chuckle escaping through the food in his mouth. “The creation of a new naval fleet—the _‘expedition’_ fleet, we’re calling it. Hanji penned the name, but since the beginning it’s been part of our plans. Three new ships, constructed with the finest technology the military can offer. They’ll be essential in securing the seas—as are you, Levi.” 

_“I’ll_ be in charge of one?” 

“Your reputation as a captain precedes you. With proper resources, I can only imagine what you’ll achieve.”

“And you?” 

“I wouldn’t dare miss the opportunity,” Erwin said. “Hanji as well. I’ll captain the other, you the third. The _Maria,_ the _Rose,_ the _Sinna._ With them, I believe we’ll uncover many of nature’s secrets. We’ll finally discover the truth.” 

The word swirled through his mind, drowning him with memories he’d been fighting to ignore. 

“The truth…” Levi whispered, staring at his plate, no longer feeling hungry. “Power to control the seas, and you want ‘ _the truth’."_

Heavy eyes looked to Erwin’s, Levi’s jaw clenching tight. 

“Those things are _monsters,_ Erwin. That’s your damn _truth.”_

The commander sighed, and he stood up before pacing back to his window. “What do you remember of that night, Levi?” 

_“Everything.”_

“Then what of the mer who attacked me?” He looked back, and Levi’s body began to tremble. “Do you recall what was… _peculiar_ about him?” 

“I only saw a shadow,” he lied, fists tightening in his lap. “I just swung in its direction.” 

“In _his_ direction,” Erwin corrected. “And the blow was quite precise. You struck the center of his face. You shattered his glasses.”

 _“It_ didn’t _have_ glasses,” Levi’s voice grew sharp. “Is this some of Hanji’s shit, again? You’re not remembering things right.”

“Neither are you.” 

The sun had long fled from the horizon, dim candle flame all that was left lighting the room. Erwin grabbed one of the candlesticks, tilting it to light another after crossing to the room’s far corner. It shone brightly, revealing the piano hidden in the shadows before he sat at its bench. 

Incomplete notes broke their silence. 

“My father taught me.” Erwin said. “Do you play any instruments, Levi?” 

“No.”

“That’s unfortunate—I find music quite soothing.” His hand stilled over the keys, and he turned back to Levi. “My father was a good man—often criticized for his ideas, but _good._ He was convinced there’s more to this world than we understand—that we can be more than what we are—and I always believed him.” 

Erwin stood again, quickly making his way to where Levi sat, then he kneeled before him at the table’s side.

“I _still_ believe him, Levi, even if those ideals led to his death. I understand your pain—truly, I do. We’ve both lost those we loved to the sea, and those two…” 

Levi’s mouth opened, ready to curse the man for even mentioning them, but the other continued speaking. 

“You can get yourself killed seeking revenge, Levi, or you can make their deaths mean something. Rise above this—let them be your _wings.”_

A hand took Levi’s, easing the tension in his clenched fists.

“The mer are monsters, we know that, but there’s so much that we _don’t_ know. We can’t destroy an entire species simply because we don’t understand them. We’ll find another way--that is, if you help us.”

Erwin clearly believed every word that he said, even when there was no way they could be true. There was something about the man, something Levi couldn’t quite place, that made him believe them, too. 

“I’m only one man.” 

“You’re one man, yes,” Erwin said. “But your skills are unlike any human I’ve ever met. You’re a man, you’re a ripper… and I believe that you’re the key to all of this.” 

Levi sighed, closing his eyes tight and holding his breath. “What do you want me to do?” 

“Well, first…” Erwin rose to his feet, motioning for Levi to follow. A bed was made on the opposite side of his quarters, and a dark velvet cloth concealed the items on top. “I want you to become familiar with these.”

Fingers took hold of the velvet, and as soon as he pulled the cloth away, something inexplicable overcame Levi. A breath caught in his throat, and his mouth dried. Tears burned his eyes, clouding his vision from the harrowing—yet beautiful—sight.

They had been lost to the ocean, sunken to the bottom of the sea. They were never to be used again, never to be known by another’s hand. Yet here they were, lying before him: two familiar, radiant blades. 

Levi brushed their handles. Feeling the cool touch of metal against his fingertips, the sensation swept away the thoughts flooding his mind. He tried to speak, to say everything he hadn’t been able to express to the other man, but his voice took shape in an uneasy breath: “How?” 

“We sent a crew to search for signs of… of life,” Erwin said. “They excavated these from the wreck. I’ve had them in my possession for you since.” 

Tremoring hands took hold of the blades, feeling the weight of each in his grasp. That bronze handle. That gold and turquoise sheath. They were nothing extravagant—exchanged for a single mer fang in the past, hardly worth a few shillings now, if he had to name a price—but every nick, every crack, every imperfection of the dual swords made them more valuable, made them his finest treasure, because they were _theirs._

His family’s. 

\- - - 

“No.”

“Levi—”

“I said no.” He tucked the cravat into his vest, tightening it with a quick pull as he fled the madwoman’s side. He’d gone along with plenty of her schemes in their months spent together already; this was enough. 

“But every captain needs a crew!” 

“I don’t.” 

She stepped in front of him, placing a hand to his shoulder to stop him from continuing down the hall. “You don’t need a crew? _Really?”_

He pushed past her, suppressing the curses reserved for whenever she behaved out of line. Her laughter echoed through the barracks, drawing other soldiers’ scrutinizing eyes. He’d been targeted enough for his pardon, been the subject of many debates, and news of his promotion—that he would captain one of the three newly completed naval ships—didn’t bode well with the masses. By their standards, he should be rotting in prison, he should be a skeleton hanging from the gallows, it had hardly even been a year—

“What are you going to do? Sail your own ship?! I swear, Levi, you really are someth—” 

“Dammit, Hanji.” He took hold of her elbow, dragging her quickly down the hall and away from those prying eyes. They went past the dining room—he didn’t need breakfast, anyway—and escaped the compound’s exit to the training grounds outside. 

Hanji gathered herself, brushing off the waist of her deep blue coat and readjusting her glasses. Then she smirked, a hand motioning to the new recruits taking laps around the perimeter. “Well, since we’re here now,” she said. “Might as well choose a few of them, right? 

“I don’t want to choose anybody,” Levi responded, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t be responsible if—” 

“Cut the crap, grouchy.” Hanji took his hand, skipping to the center of the clearring. She only released him once they stopped to throw arms over another man’s broad shoulders. “My lovely Commander Erwin! How are you this fine morning?” 

“Splendid,” he started, pulling himself away. “Good morning, Hanji, Levi.”

Levi only nodded, readjusting his coat before crossing his arms back over his chest.

“Oh ho ho ho,” Hanji giggled. “What’s _this_ all about?”

“Nothing.” Levi wouldn’t entertain any of her ridiculous theories—especially those regarding the other man. They were founded on practically _nothing,_ after all, even if she _had_ retrieved him from Erwin’s quarters only minutes before. He ignored the other two’s shared glance, choosing to appease Hanji’s earlier requests, waving toward the trainees. “Which ones are you taking?”

“Well, I think—”

“Whoever will make my life easiest!” Hanji gripped her stomach again, then she sent an arm nudging into Erwin. “Of course Moblit will be my second in command, so that’s a great start!” 

They grew silent under Hanji’s giggling, then Erwin cleared his throat, peering over the woman standing between them. “And you, Levi? Will you choose a second hand?” 

“I don’t need a first mate.” 

He looked away from the pair, setting his eyes on those running circles around them. They didn’t know what they were being tested for. They didn’t know the true dangers of the quest. 

“He’s been like this all day.” Hanji’s voice teetered on sounding whimsical, and the hand on his shoulder told Levi she was at least slightly amused. “I’ve tried talking sense into him, Erwin, really I have.” 

“That’s enough, Hanji.” The commander stepped past her, his hand finding a place on Levi’s other shoulder. 

Levi wouldn’t meet Erwin's gaze, he wouldn’t give in to what they wanted. He had joined the navy, he would captain their ship, he would take on another crew if he must, but he wouldn’t choose another first mate. He could never replace _them._

“Levi.” Erwin’s voice interrupted his flooding thoughts, caught off guard by the storms raging in his eyes. _“This will be different.”_


	15. Blind Spot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hereee we go! 
> 
> What I’ve failed to mention until now is that this fic is split in 2 parts… this chapter marks the end of part 1! Thank you so much for reading along until now. I am very excited for what’s next ;) 
> 
> An extra big thanks to Sidreality for being my incredible betta (fish) and encouraging me to keep writing ;^; ily
> 
> Enjoy, Happy (early) Halloween, and sea you next week! <3

Levi lay flat, face aimed at the sky, the sand warm to the touch beneath him. Morning light slipped through the clouds, glistening off the water droplets left on his skin by the tugging waves. The ocean pushed and pulled, but it did not bother him. He was comfortable. He was at peace. He could remain where he lay for an eternity, or at least for the rest of his life. 

He drew in a deep breath, his muscles uncharacteristically lax. Eyes fluttered open, but before he could investigate where he was, they landed on the pair that seemed to always stun him.

“Eren—” the name tripped off his tongue, even the effort of so small a whisper leaving him breathless.

“Shhh,” Eren hushed, pressing a finger to his mouth, sending the beat in Levi’s chest rampant. “Don’t speak, Levi.” 

The sound of his name coming from the other was nearly too much to bear. The brat hovered over him: hands holding tight to Levi’s wrists, legs pinning him down, those lips—glossed, pursed—hardly a breath away.

Any other time, Levi might’ve expressed disapproval at being shoved in the sand—the dirt on his coat would be unfathomable—but his body couldn’t keep up with his mind, and his mind could hardly process what was happening. 

A hand brushed along his face, gentle with each stroke. All he felt was the touch—the sun and the sea suddenly an afterthought—all he felt was Eren. As if he’d waited for this moment his entire life, as if Eren’s touch was the sole force left driving him, Levi tilted his chin up, allowing his body to take charge and do what he himself would never permit.

To say he’d been waiting his _entire_ life was an exaggeration, of course. He’d been kissed before, and he’d kissed others too, but none of them had been anything like the man he was enraptured by now. No one he’d met, no one he’d shared even the most intimate of moments with, was like the brat hovering over him now. 

There wasn’t a single human who was anything like Eren. 

He freed a hand from the other’s grasp, pulling it away from the damp sand, threading his fingers through the locks of hair that in their time together had grown so long and soft. That captive he’d freed from the navy’s ship, his body weak and mind even more frail, had grown into the brave man who now held him close. Long nights spent tangled in the other’s limbs, each morning that he awoke to find that he was still there… Levi knew what it had meant all along, but he hadn’t admitted it to himself until now. 

He couldn’t imagine his life without Eren. He couldn’t return to the _Sinna_ alone. Wherever they were, whatever he had to do, he would convince the other to continue sailing with him, because he _needed_ this moment to last longer — he needed it to happen again. This kiss couldn’t be their first, their last, their _only._ He’d spent years prolonging his torment, cursing himself for the mistakes he had made, but finally — whether the result of Hanji’s interference or of fate growing kind — he was rediscovering what it meant to _feel_ for another, freeing the very sensations he’d long kept locked away. Eren was the key.

_The key._

His hand lingered on the other man, travelling down his neck in search of the cord that should have been hanging there. It wasn’t. He found nothing but smooth skin, and in a quick move sparked by panic, he palmed Eren’s chest, shoving him away so he could sit up. 

“Levi,” Eren said. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t even confused by the man’s sudden assault. Instead of his typical fit of whining, he crawled back onto Levi, catching the side of his throat with a parted mouth, pecking and tugging at the skin there. Confusion dissipated when Eren straddled his lap, hips rocking into his own. The key didn’t matter; _Levi didn’t want it to matter,_ not with the other’s taste still fresh on his lips. 

_What had he even been fighting for?_

The heat grew until his lips burned—not as if Eren’s had set them aflame, but as if they had already been scorched. He pulled away, and Eren’s teeth pulled him back, biting down hard into the crevice of his neck before he pinned him to the ground again. Levi struggled beneath the other’s weight, and his muscles screamed in sudden agony. A groan escaped him then, and his throat burned nearly as much as the rest of his smoldering skin.

“Eren—” His voice came out an ashen thing. His mouth was dry, his tongue parched. Every inch of his face suddenly felt as if it had been torn apart. 

“I won’t let you go, Levi. Don’t wake up, yet. Don’t—” 

He was on his side, hacking out fluid as if its retreat from his lungs might do something to ease the fire burning in his chest. Disgust prompted him to suppress a gag, but doing so only brought on another string of coughs. Each pant sent quakes through his body, pain shooting through every vein from his feet to his head. 

Like a volley of cannonballs, it all came crashing back. His mind reeled over what had happened. The key. The caverns. The _nest._

Harsh sunlight beat his eyes as they peeled open—at least, when one of them did. The other remained shut, coated beneath whatever was caked and dried on his skin. An arm propped him up, and the other reached for his throbbing temple, finding what felt like sand coated in masses there. He brushed it away, instantly wishing he hadn’t. 

Scabs flaked at his touch, leaving the jagged wounds he’d received from a monster weeping freshly again. He couldn’t recall one getting so close, but he’d felt the sting of a mer’s claws before, and he knew the pain of it. 

He held tight to his face, blood and discharge dribbling through the cracks of his fingers, biting desperately at his tongue in an attempt to stop himself from vomiting. Whether it was due to his disgust or his anguish, he was unable to swallow the retch rising in his throat. But just as his body lurched forward, a wave struck him hard in the head. It had come from the side he was blinded on, but now he faced the full force of the ocean crashing against the shore. The weight of the sea pushed him down, his mind and his body unable to battle it. When the tide receded, he attempted to stand, but his leg buckled under him and he fell back down. 

A thin cloth was tied below his kneecap, soaked and soiled with dirt, a rushed tourniquet that seemed to have properly served its purpose. His trouser pant was torn away, exposing his boot, and in the space between the fabric was the mark of a swollen, purple bite. Scabs had long dried over the punctures, but it bled again when he jabbed a finger into the bruised skin with morbid curiosity. He blinked away the sight, once more swallowing his rising gorge as he focused instead on forcing himself up onto his feet. 

It was there—with one knee planted in the sand, his arms windmilling in an attempt to balance, his entire body wracked with each breath—that his gaze caught sight of a body being dragged into the ocean. Still, lifeless, half submerged beneath the waves. He couldn’t remember how exactly they had gotten there and what had led to them washing up on some unknown shore, but Levi was certain—if nothing else—that it was _him._

“Eren!” 

Levi’s leg submitted to his iron will, though he would hardly call each staggering step a triumph. He could and would manage. He’d been through worse before. That brat on the other hand... he _had_ to be breathing, he’d couldn’t have drowned. _Eren had to be alive._

Levi shoved aside the flood of thoughts, focused only on the form floating ahead of him as he took the full brunt of a wave. Hands ducked under Eren’s shoulders, his skin mangled with wounds just as severe as Levi’s. He pulled with all of his strength, attempting to free the other of the ocean’s grasp. She was relentless, having claimed him, and the tide wasn’t willing to give him back. Water up to his knees, Levi staggered, each step a cruel reminder of his predicament. Ocean spray burned his battered skin, and he gasped for breath, but he persisted—just as he always had. 

His legs buckled when they reached the safety of the shore, but it didn’t matter—he’d pulled them both back from the sea’s maw. 

...And yet Eren remained unmoving. A panic stronger than any cresting wave surged over Levi. His sight was nigh useless, the blood crusting his vision, so he used his touch to examine the brat. He reached the other’s head first, the tresses of his hair coarse and damp, following Eren’s neck down his body, practically bare beneath soaked fabric that had been clawed away. Then Levi squeezed his eye shut, held his breath, and placed his ear to the center of Eren’s chest: listening, waiting, _hoping_ to hear a sound. 

It was fragile and weak. But it was there. 

The gentle beating of the other’s heart. 

“Shit, kid,” he whispered, words whooshing out of him in an exasperated breath, relief overwhelming him. His eye peeled open, ready to look over him further, but then it caught a horrific sight. 

Instinct took control. His body moved as if uninjured, spurred by muscle memory. He flung himself back, drew his blades, and sent them down into the sand, striking deep and true. Tissue split around the edges, a dappled tapestry rent apart as the metal reflected an assortment of hues. It was a dance of gold and silver, of seafoam green and ocean blues. He’d revelled in such beauty in the past as crimson seeped from where his blades had struck, a scarlet curtain drawing across the finale of a symphony of colors, catching on each scale as it descended toward the fin. 

A gasp escaped the creature, then a shallow cry. Its chest heaved upward. Water sputtered from its mouth. Coughing followed after.

Levi fell away, his body thudding hard into the sand. He wiped his eyes, no longer concerned with the pain of the wounds there, because he had to be mistaken. He couldn’t possibly be seeing things right. 

The creature moved, pushing off the ground from its elbows, managing to sit itself up. It drew breath, then it screamed, frantic when it noticed the blades lodged into its tail. It desperately took hold of one and then the other, but any attempt to free itself failed.

Levi’s fingers twitched for the blades. He needed to reclaim them. He needed to fight. 

“Levi!” the monster called, his name escaping through a sharp pant. “Levi, help me! Levi—”

This couldn’t be happening. This wasn't _real_ . This was a nightmare of Levi’s most vicious fantasies. That body couldn’t be _his_. He’d misjudged the creature due to his faulty vision. He could hardly see, it was a simple mistake. He’d made plenty in his life. 

But it looked like Eren. It sounded like Eren. It cried out for Levi just as Eren had. As Eren… did?

He wanted now, more than ever before, to brush the other’s hair away from his brow, to trim his unruly locks, to gaze at those emeralds catching the light beneath. He gathered himself to his knees, a hand reaching out...

“Eren?” 

Levi’s mouth fell open. His breathing caught. The beating of his heart all but stopped. The treasure wasn’t hidden. That shaggy hair failed to conceal the other’s eyes: bloodshot, swollen, blinking repeatedly, and burning every shade of the afternoon sun. 

_Gold._

“Levi?” Tears spilled onto Eren’s cheeks, his body convulsing with each word. “Levi! Wh—What’s happening?”

Levi didn’t know the answer. He stumbled back, body growing weak before he crashed into the sand once more, mind drowning in the realization of a single truth:

Eren was a mer.

\- - -

Pain shot through the exhaustion. All too suddenly he became aware. He turned away from Levi, attention diverting to the blades sunk in his skin. He squirmed—they pushed deeper. He pulled—they stuck. He’d been caught in a ripper’s trap, the blades unwilling to budge from where they were lodged into his tail. 

His… _tail._

Hands coated in red stilled where metal met the wound, shaky and stunned. Eren stared at his body—at his _scales,_ at his _fin,_ at the tips of his fingers that were dripping with his own blood. A breath caught in his throat, his lungs as dry as a beach stranded by the tide, then his eyes shot back to Levi, tears clouding his vision.

The man sat a short distance away, a hand tugging the battered cravat around his neck, the other clinging tightly to his mouth. He looked sick, _repulsed,_ as his familiar tremors grew into quakes, his entire body swaying back and forth. A reopened wound bled down his cheek, dripping from his swollen eye. 

Eren felt himself grow ill, remembering what he had done. 

“Your face,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut, a hand coming up to cover his own mouth, nauseated.

Poison had already taken shape in the centers, thin lines jutting out from the gashes left by his claws. It was a gruesome arrangement, comparable to the patterns cut into the man’s back—deep and thick, unnatural rivers running over his face. Only a faint trace of silver remained in the carnage of his eye socket, hardly resembling an eye at all. 

He could still feel Levi’s skin giving way beneath his fingers. He could still feel his heart race in anticipation. It had been so tempting, all he’d wanted was a taste, yet he held back gags as he cursed himself now.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, Levi.” Eren buried his face in his hands as more tears threatened him, his whole body giving way to his sobs.

He was a monster. He had always been a monster, and now he had hurt the one who made him want to be something else. 

Levi remained silent, unscathed eye wide in horror. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, a shaky hand wandering to his cheek. “You did this to me?” 

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Eren,” Levi said, managing to pull himself onto a knee. “Where are the others?” 

Tear soaked hands fell away, and the beating of Eren’s heart stopped. 

“Where is my crew?” 

He couldn’t think of the answer—he only heard their screams. Eren’s fingers clawed at his scalp, covering his ears, trying and failing to drown out the voices crying in his mind.

 _Gunther. Eld. Olou. Petra._

He had failed to save them. He had failed to even _try_ to save them. He had done nothing, and they were dead.

It had seemed wise to escape while possible. He’d left others behind for survival before—he’d left _his own mother_ when there had been no other options. Knowing the feeding behaviors of his kind, there would have been nothing left of them after only minutes spent in the flooded cavern. That’d been his excuse, at the time, for not doing more. He had clung to Levi instead, desperate to save him from the other mer. Escaping the hordes was all he had thought of then. Yet, _now,_ he would give anything to be back there, to check the water again, to call their names one more time.

But no one would answer. 

“I swear, brat, if you don’t tell me where the hell they are—”

“I don’t know!” Eren’s arms flung forward, finding little space between him and the captain. The captain of no one—save _him_ _—_ now. Levi fell back again, arms taking a defensive position in front of his face. Seeing him like that — so _terrified_ _—_ in turn terrified Eren. “I don’t know,” he repeated, barely above a whisper.

“ _You don’t know_?” Levi spat, forcing his abused body to sit up again. “We were in the nest, we… we found the key, what—” 

“You got hurt. You got hurt, Levi, really bad.” Eren tried to explain, hoping that _somehow_ he could convince the other to understand. “I didn’t know what to do. There were so many… so many _strangers_ , I—I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

 _“Where are they?”_ Levi asked again, each word grit hard through his teeth. 

“They… they didn’t make it.”

A hand ran through the unruly mess that had once been Levi’s well kept hair, now sprinkled with grime and salt. He turned away from Eren, tilting his face toward the sky, saying nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” Eren repeated, his face burning with tears. 

“Did you do it?” 

“No!” The accusation stung Eren more than Levi’s blades, cutting deeper into his tail as he waved his hands in an attempt to reclaim the man’s attention. “I would never hurt any of you—”

“But you _did_.” Levi turned back, a finger pointing to what was left of his eye. 

“That was an accident! I just lost control, and I—”

 _“Control?”_ Levi’s tone was vicious, and even his growing tremors couldn’t lure Eren close. _“Mer_ don’t _have_ control! They’re senseless, bloodthirsty!” He covered his face then, pressing hard into his temple with an unoccupied hand. “Just what the hell even are you?” 

_A monster._ The man had to have known that.

“I’m… exactly what you think I am.”

“But you were on my ship. You were human—” 

“That’s not true,” Eren stated plainly. “I’m not human. I just didn’t know I could transform until… until it happened. Hanji says it’s my lungs, she thinks it has to do with my resp—resp-ir-it-or—”

 _“Hanji_ knows?” 

“She—She saved me. With Mikasa and Armin, back then. She wanted to know why I’m like this, if it happens to all of us, why I… if I...” Eren’s words trailed off, fading into a whisper until there was only the sound of ocean waves beating against the sand.

 _“They_ saved you back then,” Levi finally whispered, pointing to the shoulder where Eren had been shot, his voice low and solemn. “But you don’t even have a scar.”

“I wanted to tell you.” Fresh tears spilled down stinging skin left burned by the sun. 

“But you didn’t.”

“How was I supposed to?”

Levi didn’t answer. His back hunched forward, fists balled in his lap.

“You know that I couldn’t! You’re a human! You’re… a _ripper.”_ The word tasted like poison on his tongue, yet Levi was unbothered. “Rippers killed my mother. They trapped her, I was just a kid and—” 

“Mer _ate_ my family.” 

“Rippers tore her apart! She didn’t do _anything_ to them!” 

“Neither did they!” Levi sprung toward Eren but fell short, knees hitting the ground. He gathered himself quickly, but the fear, the hurt, the _anger_ was bare on his face. “They didn’t deserve to be _eaten.”_

“Were they rippers, too? Did they kill anybody?” 

“No,” Levi said, struggling to stand. He dusted off his trousers then limped toward Eren, that single eye trained on his prey. “We only killed monsters.” 

Eren couldn’t name the emotion that fell over him—anguish, but also _relief_. There wasn’t a single term that seemed accurate. Tense fists relaxed, dropping limply into the sand at his sides, and he released a deep breath.

“So you’ll kill me then.” He closed his eyes for a moment, gulping hard. “That’s what you want, don’t you?”

“What I want doesn’t matter,” Levi said. Then he withdrew the dual blades from Eren’s tail. 

Their absence was more painful than their presence had been, an almost dull ache cutting deep through muscle and skin. Eren curled into himself, grabbing hold of his abused fin, bracing for the ripper’s final attack—those shining, terrible weapons poised and ready.

“I told you something when we first met,” Levi said.

Eren prepared himself, claws ready at his sides, heart pounding with each breath. He’d seen Levi in battle before. He knew those blades could do far more damage than what had already been done, but he had no idea how to fend off such an attack. 

Levi only sighed. He retrieved a cloth from inside his coat, running the fabric along the edge of a blade, sheathing both of them once they were clean. 

“I said I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said, his words a beaten whisper. “And I intend to keep that promise.”

“Levi, I—”

“Don’t you say a damn word.” He shot back, gaze sharper and deadlier than his blades, causing the mer to recoil. 

On the horizon, where the ocean met the aging sky, a ship appeared. It was only a faint shadow, a silhouette made visible by the setting sun, but Levi stepped towards it, away from the other. 

“Levi!” Eren lunged across the sand, his attempts to keep up weak and desperate with a massive tail hemorrhaging blood dragging behind him. “Levi, wait!” 

The man continued on, each unbalanced step driving them farther apart. 

“Please, Levi!” Eren reached out, hoping that somehow his pleas might bring back the other man, might convince him to stay. “Those sails—that’s the navy! Listen to me, please!”

He didn’t.

“Captain!” 

Levi stopped, and after a moment, turned back to face him.

Eren scanned for any trace of recognition, hoping some part of the man, his captain, believed he was still him—that he wasn’t just a monster. Maybe... if Levi believed it, he could, too.

They could dance together in the drumming rain, ignorant of the crowds surrounding them. They could listen to one another’s songs, side by side before that beautiful piano. They could lay on top of the keep’s bed, fingers running through each other’s hair, lost in each other’s arms. 

A palm ran along the back of his neck, finding the cord still tied there. Eren followed its path, taking hold of the key— _Levi’s key_ _—_ dangling against his chest. This gift, this _treasure,_ was his promise from Levi. The man had claimed it was what he had always wanted, what he had spent years of his life searching for. It was a measly thing — _what was a key with nothing to open?_ _—_ but he had wanted Eren to have it. 

He had to want Eren, too.

Levi was a ripper. He’d done unthinkable things and, if they’d met under different circumstances, he wouldn’t hesitate to do them to Eren. He was a ripper, a hunter, a _monster,_ but he was also so much more. A pang struck Eren’s chest as he wished, more than anything, for Levi to think the same of him.

“Captain…” A hand reached out, the other clinging to the key around his neck.

“You’ve said it before, Eren.” Levi shuddered, the crack in his voice nearly reason to hope before he turned away again, making off in the direction of those white sails. His voice was as icy as the deepest, darkest trenches of the ocean. 

“I’m not your captain.” 


	16. Those Left Behind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOHOO LET’S GO PART 2! 
> 
> How, uh… How do we feel after last week? :,) I know that update was tough, but wow it was also one of my favorites. Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> A super huge thanks to Sidereality for being the loveliest of betta fish I could ask for <3 
> 
> Sea you all next week, enjoy!

Sobs echoed from within the bathing chambers.

It was _the middle of the damn night,_ and losing sleep wasn’t the only thing making her sick. She couldn’t handle it anymore; she couldn’t bear to listen to the indulgence of such self pity for another minute. Not tonight, not _any other night._ She took hold of the silver handles, flung open the oak doors, and stormed inside. 

“Hey!” she said, ignoring how startled the other was by her intrusion. “Knock it off, will you?” 

The girl in the bath moved quickly, sinking deeper into the water and covering her face with her hands. It was amusing to see the blush on the girl’s cheeks, covered only by falling tears. She had to have been crying for _hours_ to end up looking anything close to that.

“What do you—How did you…” The crying girl sputtered, catching her breath. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” 

She leaned on the door handle and looked away from the tub, focused on the dirt under her fingernails instead. She could leave now. The embarrassment from the experience would likely compel the other to remain silent for the remainder of both of their lives.

“I’m _speaking_ to you, handmaid.” 

Or maybe not. The girl was practically fuming now, chin barely above the steaming water, her blushing cheeks like two red apples. 

She couldn’t fathom why someone of _her_ standing was bathing _here,_ in the washroom cast aside for the house staff. What could have possibly led _her_ to seek out such a place? There was a tingling sense of recognition that had been nagging at her since she laid eyes on the girl, but then it dawned. The suds fizzing gently atop her golden head made it obvious—it was the most prominent of features painted onto the canvases hanging on the estate’s walls. She couldn’t deny the identity of this crying girl now, and she’d been a fool for not realizing it sooner. 

“You’re _Historia!”_ She feigned laughter, running a hand across her forehead as she turned on her heel. “My mistake, I’ll just be goin—”

“Wait,” Historia said, her voice suddenly stern and commanding. The other stopped, knowing that she couldn’t disobey an order from the _governor’s daughter_. “What is your name?” 

“Just… uh, call me Ymir.” 

“Ymir?” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“Alright, _Ymir.”_ Historia waded through the bath, looking regal even though she’d been shrinking against the far side of the pool just moments ago. 

The bathing chambers, so often packed with maids and cooks and servants—kicking legs and jamming elbows for a spot in the chaos—was uncharacteristically empty. That was to be expected, of course, considering the hours Historia chose to take refuge within its walls. She draped her arms over the side of the bath, the patter of droplets falling to the tile floor echoing through the room.

“Where will you go when you leave?” Historia finally said, tilting her head to the side. They both watched as a filmy bubble slid off her fingers.

“As far from here as I can. The _where_ doesn’t matter much, I suppose.” 

“That sounds nice.”

“Does it?” Ymir stepped forward, away from the safety provided by the close exit. 

Mud had long been tracked onto the floors, left to rot between the tile cracks. It was still damp, utterly neglected by the staff allowed to use the space. She still couldn’t fathom what had drawn the pampered child of a parliament official to such a place. It barely met her own standards—which, admittedly, were not high. 

“Let’s say I take off, then—tonight,” Ymir began, stopping at the edge of the water. “You should come.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Of course not.” 

“You’re only a servant,” Historia whispered. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Ymir crouched before Historia, leaning forward to dip her dirty fingers into the bath. For the first time since their encounter, she gazed into the other’s eyes, and her breath caught at the storm of emotions burning in their depths, at the over-brightness of tears in the corners. Her mouth fell open and she blinked her own eyes repeatedly, realizing that this girl was far more than the tears she shed every night.

“Maybe I do understand.”

\- - -

“Hey, Armin.” A hand gripped the blond’s shoulder, shaking in an attempt to get his attention when he failed to respond. “C’mon, we’re waiting upstairs.” 

Armin jolted suddenly, his hat slipping back. The shadows that had concealed his features dispersed as he turned his face into view. “U-um,” he squeaked, and Jean realized the voice wasn’t Armin’s at all. “Do you need something?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He removed his hand from the girl’s shoulder, busying it by grabbing the back of his neck. “I thought you were someone else—” 

“Hey, asshole!” The other swab appeared from nowhere, suddenly striking Jean’s cheek with her fist. The assault sent him straight into the girl’s dust pile, and he made a small noise of complaint as his body thudded to the floor. “This guy bothering you, Krista?” 

The second swab tossed her mop aside, adding insult to injury as dirty water dripped onto Jean’s face in its descent; she wrapped an arm around the girl, her other hand clinging to her hip affectionately.

“Ymir!” Krista squealed, freeing herself of the embrace. She dropped her own broom (agh, more dust) to kneel beside Jean, cupping her hands around his chin. “Are you okay?” 

“Leave him be.” 

“You didn’t have to hit him.” The bruise forming on Jean’s face agreed. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be so _nice.”_ Ymir sulked away, returning to work with her mop and bucket.

“You—I—I’m not _pretending!_ ” Small fists balled at Krista’s sides, the crack in her voice betraying her words. She stood back up, dusting off her skirt. “It was nice to meet you,” she said quietly. Then she rushed after the other, squeaking Ymir’s name as she fled. 

Jean pushed whatever the hell _that_ had been about aside, bringing himself to his feet to head for the quarterdeck. He poked at his swollen cheek while walking up the stairs, prodding the side of his mouth with morbid curiosity. That new swab had gotten him good... it almost reminded him of that other idiot’s punch. 

“You got the stuff, man?” Connie sat against the gunwale, hunched forward and legs crossed, Sasha at his side. 

The brunette lunged forward, arms flailing as she threw them around him. “Me first, me first, me first!” 

“Take it easy,” Jean said, laughing as he retrieved the items from what had once been his fine brocade vest and waved them at his companions. “Straight from Tortuga.”

“Wait,” Sasha started. “Is this gonna hurt? 

Jean pinched the needle between his fingers, holding it tight, then he gripped one of her ears. “Not at all,” he told her, before piercing through her lobe. 

“Ouch!” She pulled away from him with a jerk, hands pressing at the sides of her skull as she cried out. “You’re a liar, Jean! A dirty liar!”

“Wait! I need to put in the hoop—” 

“I don’t want it!” she cried. “You tricked me!” 

“Oh come on, Sasha.” Connie’s laughter broke through the sounds of her torment. “It can’t be _that_ bad.”

Jean steadied the back of Connie’s head, pushing aside the fold of the scarf tied there, and prepared himself to repeat the unfinished procedure. “You promise not to move?” 

“Do you really think something as small as a needle can hurt me?” He laughed, but then the volume of his own wailing outmatched Sasha’s. “Crap!” 

Jean held tight to Connie’s ear, sticking the ring into the new opening of his skin. “There! It’s done,” he said. “Now let me do the other—”

“Did you guys start without me?” Armin appeared at the top of the veranda’s stairs, his eyes heavy and brow raised. His shoulders were slumped forward, and he looked exhausted, defeated. _Another dead end,_ Jean figured.

That was all they seemed to be finding these days. 

“We didn’t realize you were back,” he said. 

“Jean was supposed to get you,” Sasha accused him. 

“Don’t do it, Armin,” Connie piped through the sound of his sniffling and tears, both hands rubbing circles on his cheeks. “It hurts real bad.”

The blond’s ever-present shadow materialized behind him, arms already crossed over her chest. She looked in even worse shape than Armin. The search had taken a heavy toll on the two, but the dark circles under her eyes, her shaking head, and the sunkenness of her cheeks showed just how badly it had devastated her. 

_“This_ is what you’ve been doing all day?” Mikasa said, her voice hardly above a growl. “The ship is a mess, that crew barely knows how to sail… How can you all just — just be playing around when he’s out there with that _monster?”_

The group fell silent, and even Armin didn’t offer a response. 

“Which one do you think is the monster, again?” Jean questioned, earning a glance from each of his crewmates. 

Mikasa’s arms fell to her sides, hands balling into fists. “What are you trying to say?” 

“Look, all grudges aside,” he continued, tucking the needle back into his vest. “Eren isn’t human.” 

Armin caught Mikasa’s elbow, preventing her from lunging toward him, tears already running down her cheeks. 

“He’s our friend,” Connie said, sinking back down against the gunwale. 

“A friend who could rip our heads off if he tried.” 

“Eren wouldn’t—” 

“Maybe he wouldn’t _want_ to,” Jean continued, pointing a finger to the thick gauze that had become a permanent fixture on Mikasa’s face, concealing the scar everyone knew was there. “But yes, he would.”

Her fists relaxed, fingers trembling as they caressed her tear stricken cheek. Then she turned, bolting from the quarterdeck as quickly as she’d arrived. Armin made to follow her, but another figure came up the stairs; she placed a firm palm against his chest to stop him. 

“Captain!” Sasha saluted, a hand reaching for the top of her head. 

“Don’t call me that,” Hanji replied, dragging Armin back to the others. “And don’t any more of you leave. We’ve got some things to discuss.” 

“You found out where they are?” Connie jumped up again, hands running over his scalp. 

“Not exactly,” Armin said. 

“Old uncle ripper hasn’t seen Levi since we docked here last.” Hanji sighed, picking at the patches on her coat sleeve before crossing her arms. “He’s not a very great host, either. We waited hours just for him to say something so pertinent.”

“He was our last lead,” Jean said. “Where are we supposed to go from here?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say the trip was a complete failure. Kenny’s in big time with the military. He even had a whole pack of navy dogs with him!” Hanji’s laughter echoed over the deck of the _Sinna,_ but then she soon grew silent, whispering when she continued. “He let a few things slip.” 

“Well, what is it?” 

“The navy has him. The navy has the captain.”

“And what about Eren?” Sasha asked. 

“He didn’t mention Eren. He… didn’t mention any of them.” Hanji’s eyes flickered, unable to rest on a single thing.

“If we trust what he said.” Jean rubbed the back of his head. “Then what's next?”

“That’s what we have to figure out.” 

He couldn’t imagine conducting a rescue mission with a crew as inexperienced as theirs _._ They’d hardly managed to piece the ship back into working order, and what a difficult feat that had been. Exposed nails on the hull and patches in the sails were by no means ideal, but it was the best they could manage after their last battle with the _Rose._ Of course the enemy was left in as treacherous a state, but they had the support — and funding — of the government. The _Sinna_ wasn’t prepared for another fight — neither the ship nor the recruits. Teaching Sasha and Connie how to operate the sails had been enough of a challenge for Jean; on top of all of that, the very thought of helping someone like _Ymir..._

“Excuse me,” that voice from earlier squeaked behind them, interrupting their tightly packed circle. “Can I… Can I sweep here?” 

“Oh! Sweet little Krista!” Hanji threw her arms over the girl, but Ymir—miraculously—did not appear. “Of course you can! Such a hard worker!” 

Standing so close to Armin, their resemblance was almost something to laugh at. Jean suddenly felt less shame for confusing the two. She eyed them curiously, a brow raised and lips pursed, and he found himself wondering when she had joined the crew. They’d taken on a variety of sailors in recent months, most were practically strangers still.

“So what are you all talking about?” she asked, her tone light and cheery. 

Everyone turned to Hanji, expecting the surrogate captain to answer, but Jean found his eyes trained instead on the former swab standing beside her. Armin’s eyes wandered, exchanging a brief glance with him, and he thought, if only briefly, that maybe he wasn’t wrong for this sudden feeling of suspicion.

“You’re looking for a friend, right?” Krista’s broom stilled, her eyes scanning each of them. “Isn’t that what this voyage is all about?” 

Jean’s throat tightened. It was understandable for the newcomers to be curious, and between Hanji, Connie, and Sasha, the group’s conversations were often spoken loudly enough to be overheard.

“How did you get separated, anyways?”

Of course they couldn’t answer that. Hanji had sworn them all to secrecy, and the crew they had managed to finally pull together would without a doubt desert if they knew even a fraction of the truth.

“It’s… a bit complicated.” Armin finally answered.

“Oh, that’s okay.” She resumed her chores, stepping away from the others to head back down the stairs to the quarterdeck. “We all have our secrets.” 

Jean looked to his companions—all who were left of the previous captain’s crew. Some had jumped ship after his disappearance, and most had lost hope after several weeks had passed. Yet they remained, seven months after the captain had ventured into the nest...

Still searching. 

Hanji released a heavy breath, a finger pressed against her chin. It was obvious that she would stay. She was Levi’s right hand. She wouldn’t abandon her captain simply because he was missing or—most likely—dead.

Armin and Mikasa were the same. They loved Eren, they had since they were children, even if he was a threat to their very existence (and completely unpleasant to be around). The pair had lost him once, and they had understandably been devastated when they lost him again.

Even Sasha and Connie had reason to stay. They were Eren’s friends. For some reason, they actually _liked_ the idiot. 

But Jean… had no one, nothing tying him to the _Sinna,_ anchoring him to its quest.

“That was weird, wasn’t it?” Hanji laughed, interrupting his thoughts. “Krista’s a curious little thing. Anyways, let’s get going. I want us out of port before nightfall.” 

“Aye, Captain!” Sasha and Connie followed Hanji as she spun on her heel, returning to the deck below.

Jean’s legs gave way from under him, and he slumped against the floorboards. A hand ran through his hair—long and thick after months of intentional neglect—and the other pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Everyone had their reasons, yet he didn’t know his. 

Why _had_ he stayed?

“You alright?” Armin sat beside him, leaning against the edge of the railing. 

Jean’s eyes opened, and he dropped his hands away at once, quickly nodding his head. 

“Will you still… you know?” Armin asked after a moment.

“The earring?” 

“If you still want to.” His cheeks flushed, but Jean couldn’t tell if from embarrassment or exhaustion. Armin had been working himself thin researching leads with Hanji, after all. He’d hardly gotten a moment to rest, let alone sleep. 

“Yeah—yeah I’ll do it.” He retrieved the needle and a hoop from his vest, then he shifted his attention to the other, brushing away the long locks of his hair. He couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, you and Krista look pretty similar.” 

_“What?”_ Armin shrieked, jerking away before Jean could take hold of his ear. “But she’s a… she’s a—”

“Relax!” He held the needle between his teeth as he pinched Armin’s skin, words coming out slightly jumbled. “Just your hair, it’s a lot alike.”

“Oh.” The blond twirled a tress between his fingers as Jean made the piercing. “Maybe I should cut it.”

“There.” He clasped the silver hoop onto Armin’s ear, proud to have completed at least one of the piercings today. And with no caterwauling either; his eardrums were thankful. “A cure for seasickness.” 

“It’s not a cure for seasickness,” the other laughed, poking at the new jewelry with a finger. “Who told you that, anyway?”

Jean said nothing, choosing instead to look where the Sun fell over the horizon. This thrown-together crew was improving: the sails were already drawn, ready to set out.

But he could leave. He could remain on Tortuga, find work in the village and waste his days in the island’s selection of taverns. He could abandon the _Sinna,_ just like the rest of the crew already had. This was his opportunity.

“Jean?” Armin spoke, then he realized just how long they’d been sitting in silence. He turned to the other, finding that he stared forward into middle space, not bringing his gaze to meet him. “Do you hate me for what happened... back then?” 

“What do you mean, Armin?” He asked, despite knowing full well what the blond wanted to talk about.

“For saving Eren.”

Jean took a deep breath, unsure of where to even begin. They’d had this conversation before, many times, in fact, since he’d first been let in on the trio’s secret. That night felt so distant now, when the blond and Mikasa had dragged him under their bunks, making him swear to secrecy. Hanji had appeared at the first mention of the captain, thwarting the pair’s attempt to earn Jean’s help in keeping him and Eren apart. 

So much time had passed, yet the ache stabbing his chest was ever present. Things had seemed so different, even hopeful, when only days had passed instead of weeks—even when only weeks had passed instead of months. Jean was like the rest of the crew in that way. Each day of _his_ search was one spent without him. Each moment apart made him more aware of the truth. 

He was gone. He had drowned, if he hadn’t been eaten first, that is. Maybe he’d even escaped, only to starve to death after washing up on some uncharted shore. 

He couldn’t believe in made up fantasies. He couldn’t listen to any more of Armin’s theories. _He was gone,_ so he needed to give up.

“I wish it’d been Marco instead.” The words cracked over each other, hushed and defeated. “I’d do anything for him to be here right now. He always made things make… sense.” 

Jean closed his eyes, allowing his head to hang even lower.

“But I don’t hate you for it, Armin. I’d have done the same.” 

Armin wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his chin atop them, hands on his exposed ankles. “Thanks,” he said. “I wish… I wish I could have helped both of them.”

“Mer infested waters.” Jean leaned back, catching sight of the wind tugging at the sails. “Not much you could do.” 

“If I just… if I hadn’t been _distracted,”_ Armin croaked, knuckles whitening around the bone of his ankles. “There could’ve been enough time. Maybe I would have—I could have—” 

“Hey, take it easy—” 

_“_ How _don’t_ you hate me, Jean?” 

The question stunned him. _Hadn’t they just gone over this?_

“She was doing _that_ to him, she was _killing_ him… but I—I just…” 

“Stop, Armin.” Jean grabbed his shoulder, shaking him out of the sobs taking hold. “So what if you thought she was pretty? So what you got caught up staring at her? She stared back, right?” 

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“That means you distracted her, too. You gave him a chance to get away.”

Armin wiped his dripping nose with his shirt sleeve, its blue hue growing dark as he patted his tears. “I thought you didn’t believe that.”

“Well, you’re not giving me much of a choice.” Jean stood, extending a palm down to the other. “Can’t have the second-in-command beating himself up if it might not have even happened, right?” 

“Right.” Armin nodded, accepting the help getting back to his feet. “But I’m just… I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Jean said, motioning for Armin to follow down the stairs. “If he’s out there, we’ll find him.”

He nodded, wiping the tears dry from his face. 

“We’ll find all of them.” 

\- - - 

He’d rather be in a prison cell. 

Light and dark stains littered the mattress, hard and thin under his back. He couldn’t tell the difference between those that had been there for months and those that were fresh. It was unsanitary, utterly _disgusting._ He’d rather be dead than in a place like this. 

“Alright, easy now.” The medic began, shaky hands cutting through the bandages wrapped around his skull. “How is that, Levi?” 

He hadn’t cared to answer any of Moblit’s questions until now, and he didn’t intend to start. Especially not over something as redundant as that. It was obvious _‘how it was,’_ but for extra measure, Levi exhaled sharply and pulled his face away. 

“Whoa!” Moblit startled. “Gosh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

Silence. 

The medic resumed his work, unwrapping the last of the gauze sticking to his patient’s stitched face. “Some things never change, Levi,” he sighed. “I wish Hanji was here—she always had a way of making you ease up.”

He refused to think about the woman. 

“How has she been, anyway?”

_Enough of the damn questions._

Moblit pocketed his shears, then he paced to the other side of the infirmary, retrieving a tall looking glass. He dragged it back to the bedside, the sound of it scraping against the floors practically unbearable, but his next claim was even worse.

“This is healing up nicely.”

 _‘Nicely’_ was a lie. Each time he’d served as Levi’s doctor, Moblit had told plenty of them. He’d rather hear the truth before encountering it, like the way that ever-blunt shitty-glasses did—

_Not thinking about her._

He focused instead on his own image. Deep wounds had turned to fresh scars, inky lines webbing out from their centers. They ran along the entire right side of his face, cascading down from his eye to his chin. Though... he couldn’t call that much of an eye to begin with. A faint bit of his iris peeked through the swollen lid, throbbing repulsively when he tried to open it. 

_‘Nicely’_ was perhaps the _greatest_ lie Levi had ever been told — aside, of course, from _that._ The thoughts came surging to mind, but he struck them out as quickly as they came. Or at least he would have liked to. It was nearly an impossible feat, however, when he knew whose hand that had left those marks on his skin.

“There’s this as well.” Moblit presented a small dark patch, obviously destined to cover the gruesome remains of his eye. He fumbled about with it, careful as he slung it over Levi’s head and adjusted it on his face. “There! You can’t see out of that eye much anyway, so this will improve your vision.” 

But there wasn’t a point. Levi tilted his chin up, examining the gold trim of Moblit’s coat as he stumbled away, returning the looking glass. That man had worked tirelessly, spent _months_ tending to his wounds, but for what reason? 

He’d be hanging from the gallows soon enough.

Keys appeared from nowhere, Moblit fumbling with them in his grasp. “Don’t get upset, okay?” He said as he unlocked the restraints holding Levi to the cot, one by one. 

_What the hell was going on?_

As if to answer his thought, the door pushed open, and a group of large soldiers stepped inside. They were heralded by none other than the second-in-command— _his_ second-in-command. 

Mike Zacharias. 

He split away from the others, a new set of restraints in one hand, the other coming up to rest on Moblit’s shoulder. Then he crouched, making eye contact with Levi before he spoke, an unsolicited omen of the approaching storm. 

“He’s asked to see you.” 


	17. Tired Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Sunday, another update! 
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments, kudos, and for reading with me each week! I know I've said it a bunch, but writing this story has been a lot of fun and all of you have made it an even greater experience :,) 
> 
> Super huge thanks to my fishie Sidereality for their incredible edits and for beta reading for me <3 
> 
> Sea you next week!

“You seem to remember the way,” Mike whispered, the unexpected voice right beside Levi’s ear sending a shiver through his veins, causing him to trip.

He made a swift recovery, though it was not one free of difficulty. Metal clanked loudly as his chains hit the floor, the ankle cuffs making him shuffle awkwardly as he tried to keep his balance. He had been struggling to walk with the things on since departing from the infirmary, but being surrounded by the soldiers forced him to keep pace. There was nothing dignified about being frogmarched like an errant child or a heeled dog, being forced to waddle toward an unknown fate. A growl rumbled deep within his chest, fully intended for the large man behind him. 

Mike had apparently never learned the social norms of personal space, and with his head still hovering just above his shoulder, Levi was tempted to teach him what happened to rude busybodies. 

Alas, the cuffs on his wrists were assurance that he couldn’t act on any (much needed) lessons in etiquette. He exhaled instead, focusing on each step he took as his feet dragged along the ground. 

He could attempt an escape if he truly wanted to. Luckily for his escorts, he didn’t. 

Said escorts came to a sudden stop, and Levi tripped again. A curse nearly escaped him, but he swallowed it just in time. These soldiers didn’t deserve his acknowledgment. No one did. 

“This is it,” Mike said, parting from the group to step toward a pair of familiar, golden-handled doors. The pattern of oak ran along the entryway, solid and immovable, just like its resident. “The rest of you, dismissed.” 

The soldiers saluted before marching down the expanse of hallway as Mike hammered a fist on the door. He didn’t wait for an invitation in, or even a signal that he had been heard. He took a handle, grabbed Levi’s cuffed wrists with his free hand, and pushed him through. 

It was as if time had frozen. Nothing had changed since he’d been gone. He was staring into the past, or at least a very convincing facsimile of it. 

The man sat hunched over his table, documents scattered atop its surface. He paused for a moment, eyes briefly wandering from the paper in his hand to the two visitors at the door. He didn’t bother removing his reading glasses, the ones they’d laughed made him look so old so long ago. Deepened crows feet at the corners of his eyes were perhaps the only evidence that time _had_ passed, that this wasn’t some fantasy, that everything was different now. 

“Thank you, Mike.” Erwin said. “Enjoy your evening.”

Mike did as commanded, abandoning Levi in the quarters with the finality of the door thunking closed. Levi stood still, uncertain, training his eye on the pattern of the carpet. The curlicues underfoot were still familiar, even if the other man no longer was. 

“I’d like to apologize.” Erwin shoved his chair back, then in no time at all he was at Levi’s side. He pushed aside the loose tuck of his shirt, grabbing hold of keys latched to his belt, fumbling to find the key to unlock Levi’s restraints. “I told them this wasn’t necessary.” 

The brass cuffs clicked open, and Erwin tossed them away. Levi rolled his wrists, stretching his fingers out and cracking his knuckles. His joints were unhappily tense and stiff; it had been far too long since he’d been allowed to move freely.

“There,” Erwin said, returning the keyring to his hip before heading back to his seat. “Please, join me.” 

How strange it was to be so close to the other—without blades ready in his grasp, that is. They’d spent years apart, yet Erwin acted almost the same. At least, he was just as trusting, far too willing to assume the best. 

Levi eyed the windows, outside of which the curtain of rainfall swallowed the light from the room. It’d be simple to outmaneuver the commander now, without his restraints, he could do so easily if he wanted… 

Instead, he sat. 

A covered plate rested before him, the sweet fragrance emanating from below the lid promising a fresh meal beneath. He glanced at Erwin, already back at his studying, and decided that even if he hadn’t been told directly, this meal was intended for him. 

His first act of freedom was to discard the cover from his plate. The growling of his stomach clearly determined the next. He obliged, taking hold of his dining set, and with direct precision he was sure most other captives—sorry, _guests of the commander_ _—_ didn’t normally possess, began digging into his meal. Steaming gravy covered the assortment of potatoes, vegetables, and beef… It wasn’t a dish Levi was particularly fond of, but Erwin had always excelled in preparing it. 

A kettle whistled across the room. Without saying a word, Erwin retrieved it, pouring them each a cup when he returned. 

“Do you take sugar in your tea?” Erwin asked, brushing aside his papers to nudge the glass across the table. “Or do you still prefer nothing?” 

Levi had resolved himself not to answer any of the navy’s questions. Not even this one. He took hold of the cup and blew gently on the hot liquid, that was an obvious enough response.

“I don’t want to assume anything.” Erwin sat back down, removing the glasses from his face, gaze set on his hand against the table. “But with your vocal cords intact, mouth, tongue, and throat all in fine condition… I’m curious why you won’t speak.” 

Levi swallowed his bite, the rich flavor of the food dull on his tongue.

“Not even to me.” 

He had nothing to say to that. He couldn’t reply to the man even if he wanted to. They’d had their differences in the past, they’d argued and fought countless times. Levi had said his piece, back then. The room may have been the same, but _he_ wasn’t. He wouldn’t follow another command. 

“Levi.” 

The sound of his name drew his eye to the other, his jaw clenching tight. 

“Are you aware that this is your first meal in over four days?” Erwin motioned to the plate, already close to bare. “Moblit forced a slice of bread down your throat, last time. And before that, you’d gone with nothing for three.” 

Levi stared forward, at nothing in particular, but especially not the other man. He folded his hands in his lap in case they started shaking, the taste of the food like ash on his tongue.

“I’m speaking to you right now, but it’s as if you’re not here.” Erwin sighed, his hand coming up to his forehead. “I’ve seen you hurt before, Levi. I’ve seen you angry, heartbroken, joyful even. But now… it’s as if there’s nothing.” 

It was simpler that way.

“You made it to the caves, the _nest._ I’m sure you acquired the key, there’s no doubt you’d leave without it.” Erwin stood, beginning to pace around the perimeter of the table. _“Somehow_ you escaped, though just barely, it seems. You’d likely have died if not for that scouting ship, yet… you’ve told us nothing.”

The commander stopped beside his companion, hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. Anticipation welled within Levi, unsure of how to respond to the other’s touch, but Erwin hesitated and quickly pulled back. 

“You would have taken a crew—you put a great amount of trust in your comrades, after all. Yet you were alone on that beach—you were alone when you escaped.”

 _He wasn’t._ But it was easier for Erwin to believe the false truth. It was easier for Levi, too. 

“As I said before, I don’t want to assume anything.” Erwin’s voice fell low, unsteady. “But I’m sorry for your loss, Levi.” 

His heartbeat echoed in his ears, his fists clenching tight. He didn’t want to believe the reality Erwin was implying. He didn’t want to believe _that none of them were alive anymore._ The ragged edges of his previously neat nails dug crescents into his palm, and he knew that if he were to make a move, now was the time for his escape. He could push Erwin away, dive out those windows, and make for the _Sinna_ _—_ wherever it was. They’d be waiting for him there. _All of them._

_Olou. Petra. Gunther. Eld. Isabel. Farlan._

“I need to apologize for something else, as well.” Erwin averted his eyes as he stepped away. It was as if the commander knew exactly what he was thinking. He made for those windows, blocking his escape route, and stared out beyond what Levi himself could see. “We’ve battled often, but the last time… I was responsible for one of your crew’s demise.” 

Levi’s racing heart stopped. He wanted to scream at the commander to make him shut up, to tell Erwin not to continue speaking. 

“I didn’t intend for him to fall overboard—he was terribly clumsy—but the way you reacted… I knew it immediately then. He was important to you.” Erwin carded a hand through his hair, and he released a deep sigh. “We were never properly introduced—so please, correct me if I’m wrong—but I believe his name was—”

Levi’s mouth fell open, fully intending to let out that pent up scream, but he’d kept his vow of silence almost too well. Nothing came out. 

_“_ _—_ _Eren?”_

“Stop!” Levi’s knife struck the table, sinking into the wood grain as he jolted upright. All his muscles went stiff, aching as if he couldn’t move, his body trembling ferociously as he gasped for air, his chest heaving. 

Erwin rushed to his side, reaching forward, but not quite touching him. “Levi, I’m—” 

“Stop,” he repeated, crumbling back into his chair, feeling feverish. Chills ran over his skin, muscles twanging with uncontrollable shivers, his mind drowned in the memories he’d intended to lock away. Fingers pressed into his pulsing temples, his gasps for air coming out as frantic sobs. His voice reappeared in a whisper, barely croaking through the dry burn of his throat. “Just stop.”

“I’m sorry, Levi.” Erwin finally reached out and touched his shoulder, but Levi shrugged him off. “None of this was my intention.”

“That’s bullshit.” 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m trying to help—” 

“Piss off!” A hand swatted Erwin’s away. He stared at the commander, allowing all the pain, anger, and _contempt_ he had held in since discovering that creature on the beach to take shape. “I don’t want your damn help.”

“Maybe not.” Erwin returned to his seat, elbow crushing the documents placed on his table as his face fell into his hand. “But you need it.” 

“What was that?”

“I said you need it. Damn it, you need my help, Levi.” 

“I don’t _need_ anything.” 

“Do you have any idea _how_ you’re still alive? Why you haven’t been hung yet?” The crack in Erwin’s voice provided him an inkling. “Hundreds, Levi, _hundreds_ want nothing more than to string a rope around your neck, to turn you into an example—a warning.” 

“Let them try.”

“Damn you! How can you say something like that?” Erwin’s fist pounded the table, looking at Levi with storms raging in his eyes. “I’m sorry that you lost your crew. I’m sorry that you lost… you lost _him._ But please, Levi, I’m trying to protect you from this.” 

“He isn’t dead.” 

“What?”

“Eren.” The name burned his tongue, scorching his insides as he said it. “He _isn’t dead.”_

“I don’t understand,” Erwin stated, seemingly baffled. “What’s the problem—why were you separated if he isn’t dead?”

“Because it’s worse.” Hands clasped together, Levi spoke plainly. “It would be better if he was.” 

“You’ll need to elaborate—” 

“He’s a mer.” 

Silence fell over them. Erwin—yet again—retreated to his window. A coward’s move, or a tactical retreat? Levi watched from his seat, unsure of what the other was thinking, unsure of why he’d even shared such information.

“I see,” Erwin finally said, his voice echoing through the quarters like thunder.

“You’re not surprised.”

“I’m not.” His shoulders buckled, body hunching as his military stance deflated, inhaling deeply. “We’ve suspected their involvement in society for some time now. Hanji developed the idea, back when you were both still military, after... the incident. It seemed impossible then, just like any other one of her theories. But evidently… well, the evidence suggests otherwise. If nothing else, to know that mer can take two-legged form on land is… interesting.”

_“Interesting?”_

“What else would you like me to say?” The commander sighed. “By no means does this strengthen my proposal.” 

“What proposal?”

“I’d like to make a deal with you.” 

“I’d rather hang from the gallows than take another deal of yours.” 

“I wouldn’t disregard my offer before you even know what it is.” 

“I don’t want it.” 

“Are you certain about that?” 

“Yes,” Levi stated, and for a moment he believed that he meant it. “Did you learn nothing last time?” 

“I did, actually,” Erwin said. “Which is why I’m certain _this time_ will be a success.”

A brow raised, Levi looked to the other and questioned, “why?” 

“Because I’m willing to compromise. Though knowing the truth of… _him,_ I’m not sure if your original goal for obtaining the power still interests you.”

“It does.”

“Levi—” 

“I _said_ it does.” Levi stood, almost tripping yet again, having forgotten to adjust for the short length of chain lashing his ankles together, the heavy iron of the cuffs anchoring him down. 

“You would go through with it?” Erwin’s tone was uneasy, his question one Levi didn’t know how to answer. “You would eliminate their whole species? You would _kill Eren_?” 

His teeth were so clenched Levi thought his jaw might crack; the points of pressure from his nails in his palm were so acute he was half convinced he’d broken skin. Erwin walked towards him. 

“Because that’s how this will end—your choice in that decision. Isn’t it?”

“It’ll end how I want it to end.” 

“How we— _the navy_ _—_ want it to end.” Erwin asserted. “It’s time to abide by the law, Levi. There’s only so much an orphan can achieve outside of it.”

He was unprepared for the statement. Levi didn’t dare move, staring blankly at his half-finished meal atop the table instead. 

“I’m not an orphan.” 

“Well, no. I just thought it kinder not to bring up your past.” 

How long had it been? Too many years for him to recall, for him to remember the sound of her voice or the image of her face. 

Erwin was right: it was a gift to be called an orphan instead of being reminded of the truth. Instead of being reminded of _her_. Their laughter echoed through his mind, those precious moments spent together when she was free of home and client duties. But that time had grown thin. Days turned to hours; hours turned to minutes, minutes to crawling seconds. He’d grown during the absent time, and once it seemed he could take on clients of his own, she’d sent him away, forcing him to promise never to return to the brothel. So he never had. 

“You know nothing of it.” 

“Apologies, again.” Erwin sighed, tilting his chin towards the ceiling. “I suppose it’s been some time since I’ve had to convince someone into accepting an offer from me. I’m failing miserably.” 

“You are,” Levi agreed. “I don’t even know what the hell you want yet.” 

“I thought that much was obvious.” Erwin said, pausing poignantly. Levi didn’t reply, arms crossed, metal links clinking gently as he tapped his foot and refused to speak. Finally, Erwin continued. “Sail with me, Levi. We’ll finish what we began all those years ago. The _Rose_ and the _Sinna,_ together we’ll claim the power of the seas.” 

“And about this compromise?”

Erwin’s eyes fell to the floor, his entire body stiffening. “I’ve sent hundreds of good men and women to their deaths,” he said. “It’s now rare for even the simplest of voyages to lack casualties. Mer have grown more frantic—even stronger, almost. They don’t hesitate to attack, even when their prey isn’t in water.” 

“What the hell are you going on about?” 

“I feel that something’s beginning, Levi.” He nodded, as if to assure himself of his own words. “Knowing that mer can disguise themselves, that they’re on land—”

“I never said that.” 

“But it’s true. It has to be.” There was something borderline unhinged in the man’s profile, something bent purely on survival. “We need to prepare for what’s coming. We need to prepare a counterattack before they have the opportunity to begin this war.” 

“Shitty glasses isn’t even here, yet you sound batshit crazy.” 

“Hah,” the commander laughed. “Regardless, my proposal remains the same. Sail with me, help us claim the power of the seas, and do with it what you will—so long as it ensures the protection of humanity.”

The bargain favored him, the errant sea dog, the turncoat, completely. Levi couldn’t fathom how _Erwin_ _—_ _the commander_ _—_ had thought it a fair deal to strike. 

“You’ve been tracking me for years,” Levi whispered. “It’s as if you’ve forgotten.”

Erwin finally abandoned the window and the pearly darkness of the rain outside, striding toward Levi. “Granted,” he said. “I wasn’t always tracking _you.”_

“What was that?” 

“Pods tend to follow large ships for some time,” Erwin started, shuffling through his papers once he reached the table. “Until they have the chance to hunt, that is. Then they rest, find another vessel, feed, repeat the cycle again.” 

“Do you really think I want to hear about this—” 

“However,” Erwin continued, voice booming over Levi’s. “The _Sinna’s_ pod is abnormal, Levi. The mer population remains invariable. It’s the same group at all times—regardless if they’ve fed or not.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Levi said sharply. “Besides, Hanji’s always watching those things. She would have noticed.”

Erwin’s hand stilled over his papers, then he took hold of one, slowly passing it to his companion. “She did.”

It was a letter. Addressed to Erwin, signed by Hanji.

The script was hardly legible, the edges of the parchment crumbling, and ink had spilled in large blots across the page. Even the finest of swindlers couldn’t forge a document so distinct. It had been written by her. His quartermaster. His second-hand… She had been in contact with Erwin. She had discussed the details of the _Sinna_ with him. He tossed the fragmented letter aside, only then realizing that he had torn it. 

“So,” Levi started, forcing his tremors to still, but not caring to hide the malice from his tone. “If I accept…” 

“You’ve already located the key, so we’ll obtain the third element—”

“The mer.” The word escaped Levi in a short breath, the pace of his heart all but ceasing. 

“The sacrifice.” 

The words had been scribed across golden parchment, clearly visible in his mind’s eye. _The map. The key. The mer._ Erwin was right—there was only one thing left, then the power was his to claim. 

He’d expected killing one of the beasts to be simple enough at the start of his quest. With the single cut of his blades, it would be over. He’d have avenged his family, and now, he’d have avenged his crew.

A knock sounded from the doors. Erwin moved to answer it as Levi fell into his seat, doubt festering within him. The metal of his chains clanked; a tangible reminder that there was but the merest illusion of choice here.

He was closer than he’d been before, the power of the seas finally within grasp. And yet… he was hesitating. Those emeralds burned within his mind; he had to remind himself they’d never been real. 

A few words were exchanged with whoever had knocked, not loud enough for Levi to make them out. The recruit in the doorway stumbled back when Levi turned, practically dropping what he held in startled fear. Erwin never faltered, even now, deftly catching the cage with a quick move of his hand. “Thank you, Floch,” he said, closing the doors. 

“What the hell is that?” 

“I thought you liked birds, Levi.” Erwin chuckled, lifting the cage to eye level to peer at the creature. “The symbol on your flag... It’s wings.” 

He said nothing.

“It was caught in the storm.” Erwin motioned to the animal huddling on its perch, trapped within the cage’s iron lattice. “One of its wings was injured, so I’ll care for it until it can be set free again.”

Levi stared at the creature, its white feathers still ruffled and damp. It was safe here. It’d survive another day. But… if it could choose, would it stay? 

The sound of fingers on ivory keys pulled Levi from his thoughts, each note of the piano drawing his eye to the man before it. The bird was a piteous thing, small inside its cage, cowering at the instrument’s side. “Do you still play?” Erwin asked.

“Sometimes.”

“You never were one for practice.” 

“You were a shitty teacher.” 

The commander laughed while Levi tried to ignore the music. Rather, he tried to ignore the melody that each note, despite its dissimilar arrangement, brought to mind. 

“Your things are on the bed,” Erwin said nonchalantly, unaffected, as if time had once again rewound, as if life had resumed the normalcy of when Levi was a resident here, of when they’d spent their days so casually together.

Well, he might as well look at whatever the commander had managed to save of his belongings. A velvet cloth was tied around his blades. Erwin really hadn’t changed, at least not in the simple ways like that. Levi pushed the swords aside—he wasn’t ready to face the memories of his family. Not yet.

He turned instead to the assortment of his spyglass, his compass, belts, knives… then to the treasure hidden amongst them. He twisted it between his fingers, admiring the many shades of green dancing with the light, before slipping it on. 

Even now that brat haunted him. 

His stomach boiled. His chest burned. Everything within him twisted, begging him to stop before it was too late. Levi knew what had to be done. 

“Forgive me for prying, but we couldn’t find it amongst your things…” 

Levi turned back to Erwin.

“Where is the key?” 

Unbidden, Levi thought about a knotted cord, the cold gleam of metal against tanned skin. _Shit._


	18. Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY this week is the longest chapter yet! I really considered splitting it up, but I felt everything was best stuck together... so… here we are xD 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading this fic! And a super extra special thanks to my betta Sidereality for being so incredible and encouraging ;-; <3 
> 
> Sea you next week, enjoy! ;)

Gold captured a glint of moonlight, reflecting brightly through the still darkness of the deep. His arms cut through beams swaying with the current, making for the surface above. Creatures hid in the shadows, searching for prey, but they paid him little notice. 

They knew better than to challenge a monster.

The first breath sent a pang through him, the familiar salty tang of air almost overwhelming in comparison to the flat anosmic atmosphere underwater. The sea air was cool, brisker than usual, chilling his damp skin. For once, the water was a calm undulating plain, and the ocean was gentle. She had grown relentless in recent months, almost like she was chasing him with storms wherever he went. But at last, a moment of peace. 

He floated on his back atop the water, face pointed to the evening sky. There were clouds scattered here and there, their grey hues threatening even more rainfall. He’d entered the shallows some time ago, so he scanned the horizon, searching for the land that should be nearby. Off in the distance, hardly several miles away, he found it: the dim lantern glow of a village. 

It took only minutes for him to reach the shore. It took several more for him to free his body of the ocean’s pull. Sand clung to his damp skin, pebbles and tideline debris giving way around his fingertips. Each wave threatened to reclaim him, yet he moved forward, ignoring how unnatural his body felt in the dryness, ignoring the warnings crying out inside of him, begging him to turn back.  _ This was wrong. _

But one of his problems would soon amend itself, and the other would be quelled with his curiosity. The transition from breathing water to air was always difficult. He resisted the rising urge to cough as residual water streamed from his gills, the stagnant liquid trapped in his lungs between forms making itself known with a vengeance. It became too much, as it always did, and he pushed himself onto his elbows, gagging, choking for air; joints faltering as his body crumpled in on itself, face planting into the sand. With herculean effort, he shifted onto his side, then onto his back, forcing his reluctant limbs into submission, stretching out kinked muscles to make the transformation as smooth as it could be. It was beginning. The pain blossoming in itself like a living thing crawling out of his body. He scrabbled around until he found a piece of driftwood and shoved it into his mouth, clamping his fangs around it to swallow his screams before they could bring anyone running. 

Trembling hands took hold of the waxed canvas pack slung over his shoulder, tearing it off, unwittingly yanking the tie open and scattering its contents. There was a sickening  _ snap _ from his tail, and he stopped trying to gather everything together. The driftwood creaked between his teeth, eyes squeezed tight, the tendons in his neck bulging as he tensed up. Then another crack, and the world went white, eyes staring up at the lights above, wheeling and spinning in a haze of pain. 

When the stars became pinpricks again, he found it. It shone through the haze of oncoming storm clouds and the hundreds of other bright points, the moon’s closest companion. The guiding light, or — as he’d been informed was its proper name — the North Star. 

The pain coursing through every vein blurred, the seizing in his muscles becoming a distant, unpleasant backdrop. He watched the light — the star—blinking with the others. Then he counted. One by one, until his body had finished tearing itself apart, until his tail had split and he had two legs again. 

Sitting up, he turned his gaze over himself. Blood soaked the ground beneath him, slowly becoming one with the sea water. He ran his fingers over clammy skin, over the scars left by men and their daggers. They paused over his left thigh, where the blades had struck most recently. Joined at the center, extending out, the largest scars on his body. He’d thought it before, but the way the flesh puckered reminded him of soaring wings stitched upon black flags. 

The tide rushed in again, the swishing noise of water on sand like the laughter of some uncaring god. Fate was a cruel mistress.

After a quick rinse in the icy water, he turned to his scattered belongings, still panting harshly, and retrieved his garments from the sand. The pack managed to keep out a great deal of water, but he wrung the clothing anyways, before dusting away the dirt clinging to the fabric.

The trousers fell in baggy folds over his body, as did the shirt; he hadn’t exactly considered his size when acquiring the pieces. Stealing them off the fisherman’s back had been only an afterthought. Once he’d appeased his incessant hunger — once he’d quieted the man’s screams from his mind.

If nothing else, at least the boots fit properly, though he didn’t despise them any less. He could still hardly walk when his feet were bare, even after so much practice. The boots’ thick soles prevented him from acquiring the level of control he needed, gripping the surface with his toes (which in itself was an astounding thought — he had  _ toes _ ). He still didn’t know how humans could manage it.

He slung the pack back over his shoulder, retrieving a tie from a pocket. He ran his fingers through the damp, salt-gritty locks of his hair. He’d grown accustomed to keeping it out of his face, especially when he’d had someone willing to trim it. Even if he couldn’t tame the mess himself, tying it back at least kept it out of his eyes. 

A hand grazed his neck, taking hold of the cord tied there, following it beneath his shirt to retrieve the treasure lying against his chest. He glanced to the silver ring adorning his hand, the glint of the pendant between his knuckles, then to the star once more; but it seemed his moment of reprieve had ended, for the clouds had grown thick, and its light was hidden behind them.

Wobbly legs moved him forward, en route without a set destination. Lanterns flickered some distance ahead, just beyond where the beach met the treeline. He made for a dirt path leading to the buildings, but… there wasn’t just dirt on the ground. It wasn’t anything he’d seen before. 

He paused after walking a few paces on the crunching mass, crouching to have a better look at it. A finger extended to investigate, and it was met with a sharp pang of cold. He recoiled, unsure of what to make of that, and his surprise escaped him in a small, visible cloud of breath. He rubbed his fingertips together, finding that the substance had melted away at the touch of his skin. It was solid on the ground, on the land, yet… it was  _ water _ . How could two things so paradoxically different possibly be the same?

“You’re not dressed for the weather, are you.”

It wasn’t a question, and he was grateful. He didn’t know how to answer one like that. His gaze shot to where the voice had sounded from, finding the girl leaning against a barrel, arms crossed over the thick cape draped over her chest. If that was how he  _ should  _ be dressed — well-covered in various layers of clothing — then her claim was correct.

“I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Obviously.” She waved his excuse off with a hand, rubbing sunken eyes with the other. “I’m getting inside before the snow starts again. You can come with, if you want.” 

He had no other plans in mind for this visit. Why not follow her? It was humans he was interested in, after all, and here was one offering him a place to take shelter. That was necessary, he was quickly finding, as his teeth began to chatter with a piercing gust of wind. 

“Thank you.” He stood, rubbing his hands together for warmth before tucking them in his trouser pockets. 

The girl staggered, and out from beneath the tuck of her cape peeked a wooden crutch. He felt guilty for a moment, knowing there had to be some reason for her to use it, but nevertheless, he was relieved she needed it. It would have been difficult for him to keep pace otherwise, even if the streets weren’t covered in… snow, she’d said? 

All was still, quiet, as if everything had been abandoned once the sun descended beyond the horizon. The empty streets were a far cry from the first human settlement he’d visited, that lively village on Tortuga. Though it’d intimidated him then, he now longed for its sights and smells and…

The crutch made a bizarre crunch-squish in the snow, reminding him of where he was, reminding him that he wasn’t there. It wasn’t a man at his side, a particular man whom he’d grown so fond of. It was this girl, this stranger. Someone showing him kindness simply because she could. But she wasn’t  _ him.  _

He remained at her side, taking small steps, until the buildings grew sparse and they came to a bridge. Just a measly thing, two long ropes and a series of wooden planks draped over a deep river bed, rattling ominously beneath their feet. The water below provided little comfort: the rapid pace of its current wouldn’t break a potential fall, might even hasten an end against the sharp rocks that no doubt lay beneath.

For perhaps the first time in his life, he was relieved when his feet reached dirt again. Dense forest surrounded them, but from somewhere ahead a lantern glowed, revealing the humble frame of a squat structure.

“This is it,” the girl said, making her way up the porch steps. “My family’s tavern. You’ll need to buy something, but we’ve got plenty who do that just to cozy up inside.” 

He followed as she pushed against the door, unsure if he should offer to help when it didn’t budge. She nudged it harder, using the whole of her frail body as a force, and it unstuck. A bell signalled their entrance, but there was little greeting to be found. Instead he was welcomed by the warmth of a furnace, its heat travelling from the hearth to the farthest corners of the room.

Few others occupied the tavern. A man sat hunched over his drink at the table nearest the door. A woman leaned back in her seat, boots kicked onto her table against the opposite wall. Neither seemed like the most hospitable of company, so he was happy to follow when the girl limped ahead. 

“Wait here.” She motioned to the stools placed in front of the bar’s countertop. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Thank you,” he said again, truly meaning it. He’d learned it plenty of times before, but this girl reassured him: 

Humans weren’t all monsters.

He sat upon a stool, resting his unsteady legs as she disappeared down a hallway past the tavern’s bar. Tension built in his shoulders, so he folded his arms atop the counter and pressed his forehead to the surface in the nook created, allowing himself to release a deep breath. It’d been some time since he’d last sat. It’d been some time since he’d allowed himself even the barest moments of rest, actually. The comfort and warmth of the tavern was a welcome change from his constant pursuit of…  _ whatever  _ it was he was looking for. 

Swimming away had seemed to be his only option. It was what he had always done. He’d left his friends in the harbor. He’d left his mother at the tide pools. He’d left his crew in the caves. He’d left… Or rather, he’d  _ been left by _ his captain on the shore. 

There needn’t be a destination in mind, so long as he kept moving, so long as he continued forward. 

The bell chimed from behind him, signalling another’s arrival.

He didn’t turn to see who had entered. He didn’t even move from such a compromising position, blinkered by his shoulders. He was safe in this tavern. There were no whales or squid or mer or anything plotting to attack from behind. 

“Are you alright, stranger?” 

He lifted his head just enough to peer at the speaker. Of all the empty seats available in the bar, the newcomer had chosen one directly beside him. 

“What makes you think I’m not?” He retorted. 

“I meant no offense.” The stranger shifted on his stool, extending a hand in greeting. “My name is Zeke, it’s a pleasure.”

“A pleasure,” he echoed, but he turned away from the other’s outstretched hand because — so far — it hadn’t been. 

Zeke tapped the countertop, catching the attention of the barkeep emerging from the hallway the girl had disappeared through. “A whiskey for my friend; your finest wine for me,” he said, materializing bronze coins from his chest pocket. 

“Sure thing,” said the barkeep, the wrinkle between his brows deepening as he eyed the both of them. He turned away, rummaging through the fixtures decorating the wall to fulfill the order. In little time, two glasses were presented. The mere scent of the amber liquid in the one placed before him was enough to make him swallow a gag.

Zeke threw back his glass before setting it back atop the counter, empty. “Another,” he said, before refocusing on his companion. “What brings you to the colonies?”

“I’m…” He circled the rim of his unwanted drink with a finger, looking for the word he wanted. “Travelling.”

“Ahh, the new world certainly is a sight to behold.” Another glass in hand, another glass emptied in a hearty mouthful. 

“It’s certainly interesting.” 

“Tell me.” Zeke slowed his pace as a third glass of wine appeared, setting it down after only a sip. “What’s been most fascinating?”

“I — I’m not sure,” his voice fell quiet. “There’s lots of things.” 

A hand reached towards his neck, taking hold of the cord tied there in a nervous habit. He traced it down his chest, retrieving the treasure from within his shirt once more, feeling the cool touch of metal on his fingertips. 

“That’s a fancy trinket.” Zeke’s glass returned to the counter with a loud  _ clink _ . He leaned forward, hands clasped beneath his chin. “Where did you find it, Eren?” 

The sound of his name spoken aloud rang in his ears. So much time had been spent without hearing it — without so much as  _ thinking _ it — that he’d nearly forgotten what it was.

“I never told you my name.” 

The barkeep went rigid, and the already quiet tavern grew even moreso. Suddenly he heard it,the weak sounds — whimpers, crying — escaping the captives tied down the hall. 

Eren’s gaze darted to Zeke, examining him for the first time since their meeting. The man didn’t seem surprised, rather, he didn’t seem bothered by the panic surging through Eren, or the desperation in his eyes. He sat still, moving only to retrieve his drink again from the counter, droplets of water falling from his hair, his chin, glasses still fogged from the cold air outside.

It was one of those times, as it always was, where instinct saved him, where his body moved before his mind could overthink and delay what needed to be done. Eren jumped from his seat, flinging the stool towards the other, and bolted towards the door. Someone grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking him back, and then there was the barkeep, half of a shattered bottle ready as a weapon in hand. He dodged the swing, swerving and then returning to his path to the exit, but there was the other man, no longer hunched over his alcohol by the door — and apparently completely sober.

It wasn’t a fair match. How could it be when he was so outnumbered? The sober man blocked the doorway, knees bent, arms extending out. Eren rushed forward, fleeing from the shattered glass swinging in his direction once more. He dove as if there was water to catch him, wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist to topple him off his center of gravity,  _ somehow  _ lucky enough to bring him down. 

To bring the entire  _ door  _ down. Wood splintered around them; he tackled the other into the banks of snow then gathered himself to his feet, ready to sprint in any direction, once again running without a destination in mind. But then the man’s hand was on his ankle, pulling him back, and the barkeep stood ready to jump in, glass glittering in his grasp. 

Eren hadn’t a clue of where he was going, but he’d come too far to be stopped now, to be captured and killed and sold in a place like this. Maybe they were rippers, or maybe they simply wanted blood… It didn’t matter much either way. 

He kicked at the face of the man holding his ankle, causing him to let go with a shriek. But there was his companion, that bottle still in hand, and Eren barely catalogued its existence before it shattered hard into his shoulder. He could feel the glass pricking deep into his skin, felt it taking residence inside his body. Though as sharp as another’s claws, he swallowed down the pain. He could handle it. In fact, that was what he had expected to happen. 

The barkeep had used his trick; now he was defenseless. Eren swung at his jaw with the full force of a fist, feeling bone — or at the very least a tooth or two — crack beneath his strike. The man fell away, crumpling atop the debris to the ground, and Eren turned, rushing towards the bridge, sprinting towards the river that would lead him back to the ocean. 

Something met his face, a  _ thwack _ of contact in the space above his eyebrow. The assault left him dazed, and he stumbled backwards into the snow, staining the white with crimson as he fell.

“Sorry.” It was her, the girl who had led him here, readjusting the crutch beneath her arm, shivering as she readjusted her cape to cover it. “We had a feeling you might run.”

Hands took hold of his shoulders and lifted him before he could address her, before he could even fathom what the hell was happening. The pair of men dragged him through the snow, dumping him onto the ground by the bank of the river. The bridge swung mournfully a handful of yards ahead; it had been his escape, but with the men tying a rope around his wrists now, it taunted him rather than offering hope. 

Eren fought to keep his body upright, but the throbbing spot above his brow, dripping with blood, made it hazy and impossible to focus. 

“What the hell was that?” The woman who’d had her boots kicked up on the table in the tavern appeared from nowhere, Zeke at her side. Her arms were crossed, gold-trimmed coat falling just above her knees. Eren blinked twice, certain that the daze from the head wound was affecting his vision.

He  _ knew  _ her. 

“We followed the plan, Frieda.” The barkeep forced the words out, holding tight to his swelling jaw.

“ _That_ ,” she said disdainfully, “was not my plan, Galliard.” 

“You said to subdue him,” piped the other, his voice markedly neutral compared to his companion’s grumble. “Technically, we did.”

_ “I _ did.” The crutch thumped against the ground, dragging mud and melted water through the snow. Its owner dropped down, curling into herself and rubbing at her shins.

“And we’re fortunate you did, Pieck.” Zeke’s voice silenced the whining from the others, and he swirled the contents of what remained in his glass before motioning to Eren. “It’d be a great loss if he escaped us now.”

Then he tossed the glass away, allowing it to disappear and shatter beyond the treeline before placing a firm hand on each of the other men’s shoulders. 

“Why don’t you boys clean yourselves up,” he said, his tone ringing with amusement. “Looks like you lost a few teeth, Galliard. And Colt, that bruise on your eye… it’s positively gruesome.” 

They both huffed sharply. “Whatever.” Galliard pulled away, Colt following close behind.

“Help them dress those wounds,” Zeke instructed the girl. 

Pieck nodded, pulling herself back up and limping after the two.

“I hope you’ll forgive them.” Zeke laughed, stepping towards Eren. “They meant no ill will, and since this isn’t your true form, we figured you’d recover soon enough.”

Eren said nothing, forcing his eyes to focus on the man through the throbbing in his skull. 

“I must say, it truly is a pleasure to meet you, Eren,” he chuckled. “Especially after all this time.”

What? The old bastard clearly didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. 

“I just met you tonight,” Eren choked out.

“That’s right, I’m glad you’re paying attention,” Zeke said. “Though not closely enough it seems.”

Frieda kneeled down, her eyes meeting Eren’s. “Hello,” was all she said. 

“You,” Eren croaked uncertainly. “I — I  _ know  _ you.” 

His memory of the woman pulsed through his mind: her arms crossed, her head back, leaning against the red walls of Kenny’s office. But there was more--he was certain of it. A sense of joy…  _ her _ joy, her laughter escaping from his mouth as he held a young girl’s hand. 

_ Who… who was she? _

“You met some time ago,” Zeke explained with a patronizing air of beneficence. “It was unexpected, of course, but incredibly beneficial to our cause.” 

“Your cause?”

Frieda stepped away, brushing the melting snow from the knees of her trousers.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the tale of the Sea King.” Zeke smiled, an offer of reassurance that Eren couldn’t trust. “The tale of the Sea King,” he repeated when Eren didn’t answer. “The curse of the mer — ”

“Who the hell are you people?” Eren twisted his wrists against the rope, unable to free himself. “What do you want with me? What do you know about the curse — ”

“What do  _ you  _ know about the curse?” Frieda interjected. “It hardly seemed like much.”

“What are you even saying? I don’t know what’s going on!”

“Of course you do,” Zeke was still chuckling, smugness dripping from his voice. “Did you truly think you were alone in this world? That growing legs separates you from the masses?” 

“I don’t know what you’re getting at — ” 

“You do.” Zeke bent a knee, gripping the corner of his glasses, which Eren had previously thought were fogged with condensation, but were actually made out of some sort of smoked glass; pulling them away from burning golden eyes. 

“You’re,” Eren whispered, voice cracking in disbelief as he stared into the man’s irises. “You’re like me?”

“Yes.” Zeke returned the glasses to his face and stood, pacing circles around Eren. “Now that you know we can trust one another, you’re familiar with the tale I’m referencing, yes?” 

“No.” It was the truth. “I — I’m not.” 

An incredulous pause. “Were you too daft as a child to listen to the songs?” 

“Frieda — ”

“I didn’t have many songs,” Eren interrupted quietly, the smallest whisper enough to catch the others’ attention. “I didn’t have a pod to sing them. They were killed. Then it was just my mother, but she — she — ”

“It makes sense now,” Frieda said, ignoring Eren completely, her words intended only for Zeke. “If he’s truly so naive, he wouldn’t have been aware of how dangerous that man is.”

Zeke stroked his chin, brows furrowed, seeming to appraise Eren in a new light.

“What do you want?” Eren asked again, his body trembling from cold and confusion. “What’s going on?” 

Zeke clasped his hands behind his back. “Frieda and I… we’re among the last descendants of the Sea King,” he said. 

“And we’re going to reclaim his power,” she continued. 

“Our species has suffered by the hands of humans for far too long. That’s why we’re here. We’re going to end it… before it’s too late.” Zeke paused, kneeling again in front of him. ”But we need your help, Eren. We need you. You and that key hanging from your neck.” 

Eren raised his hands, still tied together, and prodded at the golden treasure dangling in front of his chest. “Why me?” 

There was a pause as the pair exchanged a quick glance. Then Frieda, her voice stern, said, “because of Captain Levi.” 

“Levi?” He quivered, hyper aware of how long had it been since the name had last left his lips. “What does he have to do with this?”

“Have you ever met a human who despised mer so much?”

“He’s—He’s a ripper. But he wouldn’t—” 

“Eradicate an entire species?” Frieda interrupted. “It’s been his goal for years. He fully intends to.” 

“No.” Eren knew the man hated him, hated  _ all _ of them, but it couldn’t be true. No one with that amount of hate in their heart could have done the things the captain had. Surely not... “You don’t know him.” 

“We know him as well as you do. Probably even better.” 

“You see, Eren,” Zeke began. “Frieda possesses some, ah,  _ special abilities _ _ — _ ”

“Call them my charms.”

“Her… _charms._ ” Zeke looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. “We’ve kept tabs on the ripper for nearly a decade, but to find he had a mer in his own possession—” 

“It was too perfect for even me to come up with.”

“So you were charmed. Frieda manipulated the nature of your curse — ”

“It was a cruel thing to do, honestly,” she said. “Forcing a mer near a human. I’m sorry you had to endure it.” 

“I didn’t  _ endure  _ anything.” Nails dug into the soft skin of his palms. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You didn’t charm me, I — ”

“Of course I did. I can turn you into a fish right now if I’d like.” She flicked her finger in his direction, and though he tried to assure himself that she was lying, Eren still recoiled. “But as exciting as that’d be, it wouldn’t benefit me at all. Not now, anyways.”

“Our spies have infiltrated the parliament, the military,” Zeke said. “But this is the first time we’ve gotten one so close to  _ him.”  _

“I’m not your damn spy!”

“But you were,” Frieda laughed. “Anything you saw,  _ I saw. _ Anything you heard,  _ I heard.  _ And those feelings you’re so certain that you have — honestly, you think you can  _ love  _ a human! — so naive.” There was the flash of sharp white teeth as Frieda’s lips curled, the smile of a monster. “ _ I know  _ that you can’t.”

“That’s not true — ”

“You’d have escaped that ship a long time ago if I hadn’t been keeping you there. You’d have killed Levi Ackerman at your first opportunity if I’d have let you.” Her words were cool and detached, like the names were just that — names, and not  _ people _ he’d grown to consider as family. To her, they were clearly no more than pieces on a game board.

“You’re wrong!” Eren fell forward, unable to catch himself with his bound hands. He thunked against the icy ground, the snow and dirt burning against his skin as tears took shape. “I — I wouldn’t have.” 

“As I said, it was cruel.” Frieda sighed, bending down to pat Eren’s back. It was an empty motion, with no sympathy or comfort behind it. “But it was necessary.” 

“Why?” Eren’s voice was barely a whisper. “Why would he… There’s no way he would do  _ that. _ He’s one man, how could he?”

“Have you not been listening?” Frieda said, a tinge of exasperation in her tone. “With the  _ power. _ With the  _ curse.”  _

His breaths were shallow, and he forced air into his lungs. “That’s why you want it for yourselves.”

“Yes.” Frieda stared blankly at him, hardly a trace of emotion dressing her face. “To protect our kind. To save the oceans.”

“It’s a shame you were forced into isolation, that you’ve spent your life without a pod.” Zeke kneeled again, gently clapping Eren’s shoulder before he untied the ropes on his wrists. Then he sat, as if they were once more just companions sharing a conversation in a tavern and not conducting a pseudo-interrogation in the dirt and snow. 

Eren leaned back to sit as well, hiding the tears behind his hands, pressing his forehead to his knees as he inhaled a deep breath. 

“You don’t even know your own history,” Frieda said. “It’s a miracle you’ve survived so long by yourself.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Our ancestor, the Sea King, is only a myth today — even to those he once ruled.” Zeke removed the glasses from his face, taking hold of his scarf to clean the lenses. “But luckily Frieda has her  _ charms _ , and I have my knowledge.” 

Pieck emerged from the treeline, hobbling forward, followed by the pair who had attacked Eren earlier. Galliard carried armfuls of dry brush for tinder; Colt had a torch lit at his side. Pieck split off to sit behind Zeke as the two men cleared space in the dirt and set up the fire. They glared at Eren before joining the group to form an imperfect circle.

“Triton, Neptune, Poseidon,” Zeke continued, unbothered by the return of his companions. “The King has been called many names, each of minor consequence. What matters are his  _ sons.”  _

“His sons?”

“The brothers.” Zeke nodded, voice taking on a dramatic timbre as he continued telling the story. “Thousands of years ago the family grew divided. The eldest son wished to live his life in the sea, while the younger chose to explore the land. Their father foolishly accepted both of them. He manipulated mer bodies to adapt to either region — to follow whichever son they chose. This deceit robbed the eldest brother of his subjects, of his birthright. The two fought amongst themselves, hating the other, until the father who had enabled such a mockery of nature intervened. The choice to make was clear; the father did what any great king would. He ended the war between man and mer.”

The others looked to Eren to see his reaction, knowing what came next. 

“He ended their lives.”

The breath caught in Eren’s throat. “But you said it’s just a song, right? It’s just a story,” he pondered aloud. “He wouldn’t really do that. They were his children.”

“They were, and he did,” Zeke said, his voice cold and plain. “In his agony he ‘gifted’ merkind with insatiable bloodlust, equipping us with the ability to protect ourselves from the torment of man. Land-walkers were destined to remain there. And those in the sea were cursed to  _ break _ if they wandered too far from shore. How could another war begin if we didn’t venture into one another’s territory? Or if mer were forced to slaughter humans the moment we were close enough to speak, before any kind of diplomacy could be forged?” 

“It’s those damn boats,” Frieda grumbled. “And those damn rippers.”

“He wasn’t long for this world after a curse of such scale.” Zeke resumed, ignoring his relative. “Believing he’d eliminated his bloodline, and without an heir to inherit his gifts — ”

“The fool didn’t think about his grandchildren.” Frieda rolled her eyes.

“He locked his power away — the power to control the wind and seas, the power to control all those who dwell in the oceans — only able to be  _ unlocked  _ by his key.”

Eren’s spine stiffened. He reached for his treasure, gripping tightly to the key — Levi’s key — as its gold surface drank in the light of the flames.

“Relax,” Frieda scoffed. “We can’t take it from you.”

“The key can only be wielded by the one who forged it,” Zeke explained.

“It should have never been forged in the first place,” Frieda groaned, tilting her face to the stormy skies. “Lifetimes spent spreading fakes to protect it, all for what?  _ This? _ The map never would have been stolen if — ”

“I’ve taken responsibility for the girl’s actions.” Zeke sighed, hunching forward. “If necessary, I’ll take responsibility for Eren, too.”

Eren looked past the fire to where the strangers stared at him.

“Well,” Galliard spoke above the crackling hiss of the flames. “You gonna make this easy, Eren?”

“The power…” He tucked the key back into his shirt, relieved to feel its presence there. No one was taking it from him, not yet anyways. “What are you going to do with it?” 

“The only logical thing,” Frieda said. 

“Man and mer will be reunited,” Zeke proclaimed. “You’ll unlock the power and bestow it upon a royal heir, and she will use it to rule over all.”

“But… humans don’t know about any of this.” Eren startled when Frieda’s glance shot towards him, her face twisted and snarled. All of a sudden he could see the monstrosity in her features clearer than ever.

“Nor will they,” she spat. “But they’ll fall into line once we’re in control.”

“Try to imagine it, Eren.” Zeke said coaxingly. “A world where the seas are  _ free.  _ Where mer are no longer hunted. Where children aren’t stripped of their pods or their mothers.” 

_ Mother.  _ Her eyes, light catching in the bright golden swirls. Her hair, floating in the current surrounding her face. Her voice, stern, disappointed, when he presented the pearl, the treasure, expecting her to fondly accept. 

“Freedom…” he whispered. That’s where he’d been heading, what he’d been hoping to find.  _ That  _ had been the escape he’d been looking for all along. 

But Armin, Mikasa,  _ everyone  _ aboard the  _ Sinna…  _ could he truly be free if they were enslaved? How could he be free to begin with if someone had to tell him that he was? And also...

“I can’t give you what you need,” he said. “I didn’t forge the key.”

“But it's yours,” Zeke said. “If not you, then who did?”

He drew in a deep breath, readying himself to say the name again. 

“Levi.”

Frieda laughed, her voice loud and shrill in the quiet night air. “I really hoped you wouldn’t disappoint me _.” _ She got to her feet, kicking through the snow, motioning for her companions to follow. “Come along, I need a snack.”

Everyone except Zeke got up and followed Frieda as she made her way back into the tavern. Eren tried to ignore the screams that followed.

“Frieda’s charms,” he started once they were gone, once he was alone with Zeke before the fire and had managed to quiet his mind. “If you all want to stop Levi so badly, why… why not make me kill him?”

“My cousin enjoys her tales, even if lies are amongst them.” Zeke leaned forward, hands clasped beneath his chin. “She  _ wanted _ you to kill him, Eren. In fact, she tried forcing your hand several times… But you're different from other mer she’s manipulated before.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. Not completely, anyways. All I know is that for some reason you didn’t act on your bloodlust. But beyond just that,” Zeke said. “The curse you resisted was hers.”

Maybe he’d been their spy, even if unintentionally, but this revelation lifted the heaviness in Eren’s chest somewhat. 

“You must care a great deal about that human, even despite the threat that he is... Perhaps what Frieda said is right.”

_ Love.  _

Those feelings, his uncertainty, that’s what she had described it as. 

“You’re blushing,” Zeke laughed.

“I’m not!” Eren covered his cheeks, ignoring that there was, in fact, a growing warmth there. He gulped, questioning the tripping beat of his heart and the rising goosebumps on his skin.

“You’ll meet again soon enough.” Zeke sighed, a hand reaching into his coat pocket. “If he forged the key, we need to locate him.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” The words rushed out of Eren, breathless as he imagined seeing the man again, pulling him close, tasting his skin… But he’d been denied by the other. It wasn’t he who had walked away. Levi didn’t care for him any longer — if he even had to start. He knew the truth now. He knew that Eren was a monster. “I don’t even know where to find him.”

“I do.” 

A folded parchment fell into Eren’s lap, hope rising within him as he unfurled it.

The captain was depicted in the center. It was unlike the image painted on his uncle’s canvas — the portrait of Levi in his younger days that Eren had examined so long ago. It was a bust portrait, the features crudely drawn, but undeniably  _ him _ , achingly familiar as he glared outward.

The script upon the parchment was barely legible to him, though the words were darkly inked in broad, crisp letters. The vocabulary Armin had taught him to read as a child only deciphered a few of the phrases. He scanned the page, then he read it again. 

As snow began falling from the dark clouds hiding the starlight, the flakes anointing the captain’s visage, Eren finally understood its meaning.

Levi was to be hanged.


	19. The Hanging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo happy update day! Thank you all for reading and for your comments/kudos! <3 
> 
> I wanted to warn you guys that this week might be my last update for… awhile ;-; I’ve started working again, and between 40+ hours weekly and my schooling I don’t have much time to write :( We’re getting so close to the end though, so I’m really hoping things settle down a bit and I can share more chapters soon! <3 
> 
> Thank you so so much to my fishie Sidereality for editing this chapter and for giving me so much encouragement this week ;-; you’re amazing <3 
> 
> Enjoy!

“What do you  _ mean _ you could be hanged?” 

Levi snorted, shaking his head in mild amusement. It didn’t last long, however. His gaze fell back to his table, his hands rummaging through the countless papers lit fish-belly white in the candlelight. “I said what I said, kid.” 

Of all the warnings to receive before his first venture into Tortuga — into any human city, actually — this was not what Eren had expected. Levi’s description of the executions, the  _ hangings,  _ was chilling enough to make his toes curl.

“But — but why?” 

“Treason, piracy,  _ murder.”  _ Levi said with excruciating casualness. He stood then, his elbows thunking softly onto the table as he leaned across to Eren. How could he focus on the utterly unsatisfying meat strips on his plate when the man’s face was now only inches away from his? When he could feel the other’s breath tickling the fine hairs on his skin? “You’re not afraid of me — are you, brat?” 

“No,” Eren had said. There hadn’t been many reasons to fear the man — not then at least. Not when Eren had still believed he was the only monster wandering the captain’s ship. 

No, what he had feared back then was the hanging.

It terrified him now.

The bodies swayed back and forth, the creak of metal haunting their movement and echoing across the shoreline. They still dripped from the high tide, caged and covered in tar.  _ A warning  _ was what Levi had called the practice, but how could dead men warn the living of anything?

Eight chimes sounded from the belltower. “We’ll move in at the ninth,” Zeke had said. And there it was, ringing loudly in his ears over the mockery and laughter of the townsfolk flooding the streets. 

Eren drew in a staggered breath, struggling to force the air into his lungs. Steadying himself against a structure, he scanned the crowded alleyways, ignoring the nerves churning his stomach. He’d have likely vomited all over the cobbled path if he’d managed to keep even a morsel of food down. Luckily for him, his appetite had vanished as soon as his eyes had met those of the man on the poster.

“Just have a damn bite,” he could hear Frieda saying, demanding he take part in the hunt when he’d refused. Her disdain for him seemed to grow by the minute. “Don’t starve yourself to death trying to act righteous,” had been her last words before disappearing beyond the horizon. She couldn’t blow her cover—they were getting close to the navy, after all. But it was _‘family matters’_ she’d claimed needed attending to, or something of the like. 

Frieda biting into her prey’s neck, the man’s pleas slowly wheezing away, still haunted Eren. 

He’d given into his own desires before. He’d fed on humans when the urge became too strong to ignore. He’d done what was necessary to survive. Yet, still, he couldn’t think of the sailor that Frieda had unsuspectedly plucked from his boat without the faces he could recall by name coming to mind.

His fist struck the brick wall of the structure. Eren squeezed his eyes tight, trying to rid his mind of the images of those he’d met aboard the  _ Sinna _ . His lost crew was exactly that — _ lost _ . He couldn’t mourn for them now. Not in this place. 

Not when the captain still needed his saving. 

He took a long stride forward, joining the herds flocking towards the dock. The  _ execution dock.  _ A putrid stench wafted through the air. How the hell was no one else noticing? Maybe it was his heightened senses. Maybe the citizens had become so accustomed to the scent of rotting corpses and flesh that it no longer bothered them. Or maybe, Eren thought, it was because of the idea that someone he loved — no, someone he  _ cared for,  _ he corrected — would be hanging next. 

He pinched his nose, trying to aid his attempts at suppressing his gags. He felt the smooth leather of his hat as he tipped it farther down his forehead, concealing the details of his face from the soldiers lining the edges of the path.

“We don’t know who will be present,” Zeke had explained his reasoning for their extravagant attire. Their  _ disguises.  _ “We’ll have to blend in for even a slight chance at getting near the gallows. Everyone wears their best — you see, hangings are quite the show.”

Zeke’s intel had proven correct, thus far. Skirts in every color he could name (and some he couldn’t), children and parents skidding along hand in hand… Everyone hurried to where the sea met the shore, where the sand melded into a paved military courtyard, a line of rope dropped upon a stage. For such a solemn occasion, one ridden with stink and horror and  _ death,  _ the air about the town was surprisingly vibrant. 

Even to each other, humans were cruel.

An elbow nudged Eren’s side. His gaze shot to the offender, desperate for an excuse to fight, but sunken eyes warned him against it as the girl struggled to keep up with his quickening pace.

“Don’t cause a scene,” Pieck whispered to him. “Not yet at least.” 

Then she slowed and vanished, camouflaged instantly within the crowds. He knew it was best to listen to her. It must have demanded more courage from her than anyone to act so comfortable in a place like this. 

“We should have taken the  _ Warrior,”  _ she had groaned when the group washed onto Port Royal’s shore. “It’s not like the others need it. They all swim just fine.”

The scarred remains of what had once been her fin took a new shape on land. Eren hadn’t wanted to ask, but he hadn’t been able to pull his gaze from the nub where her ankle and foot should meet. He hadn’t wanted anyone to notice him staring, but of course Galliard had, and he wouldn’t shy from any opportunity to chastise Eren.

“They kept her on land too long. Part of some travelling show,” he had said. “Had my brother, too. Only difference was he tried running the first chance he could get. Cut part of her fin off so Pieck wouldn’t try it too.”

She had stared at him then, her face unstirred, saying nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” was all Eren had managed, vocalizing in a shaky croak. 

“Yet you’re still all smitten over the things,” Galliard had spat, turning away before slumping to the ground. “You’re just as bad as all of them.”

Galliard was ahead of Eren now, standing directly beside the scaffold, minute compared to the rest of the scene. The disguise suited him perfectly. He was just a man lucky enough to snag a spot in the front row. Just a man with a ridiculous red feather stuck into an even more ridiculous hat. A hat that he tipped in Eren’s direction. 

Eren quickly nodded back. Then he ducked away from the crowds, finding refuge near the moss coated walls surrounding the courtyard. The structure was like a force of nature herself, a monolith withstanding the push and pull of the sea. 

The pillar Zeke had stationed him at was unoccupied, just as he had claimed it would be. Eren leaned against it, working to slow his frantic heartbeat. Each moment that passed, each sound of laughter or jokes from passersby, made him feel as if it would beat out of his chest. 

_ Criminal. Thief. Traitor.  _

The humans didn’t know who the hell they were talking about. 

His gaze fled back to Galliard, whose hands were placed nonchalantly behind his head. Then Eren glanced to the opposite side of the stage, finding that Colt was also in position. Pieck would be somewhere in the center, though he couldn’t find her amongst the thick crowd, and Zeke — the puppeteer of this spectacle — should be keeping watch from a distant post. 

Zeke had claimed the trio was best suited for the task at hand. They were unrecognizable—undetectable—by members of the navy and their soon-to-be captive. Eren hadn’t thought to ask why _Zeke_ might be recognized, how he could be involved with the military… or with _Levi._ He’d been too preoccupied demanding to free the man himself, outraged that he was omitted entirely from their original plan. 

Thus, here he stood: alone at the edge of the human sea that writhed in waves more ferocious than the ocean herself, searching desperately for any sign of his captain, waiting for the scheme to unfold.

The hangman would call the captain’s name. Colt and Galliard would rush the soldiers, giving Pieck the chance to cut him free. Then all five would flee to the ocean, only a short ways away from the compound's dock. 

Zeke’s plan could work… it  _ had  _ to work. They hadn’t figured out every detail yet — they’d have to manage to keep Levi afloat until rejoining the  _ Warrior  _ somehow — but it was more than what Eren could ever think up on his own. If for no other reason, he was indebted to the pod for their help.

He would give them their key, he would give them the power, but he needed Levi to unlock it.

The vacant scaffolds were surrounded; dozens — if not  _ more _ _ — _ had gathered to watch the notorious captain meet his end. In the distance the crowds split, parting to make way for a procession of soldiers. The men remained in formation, not even budging as wind beat against their thick coats. But Eren could see past their stern expressions. He could see past the facade of navy and gold. 

The bastards were enjoying themselves. 

The jeering from the audience erupted into a roar as they caught sight of what the soldiers were leading. A beast bound in reins and latched to a carriage. Storm clouds glistened off the black paint. The creature whinnied, then a whip shot through the air, striking hard into its back. It submitted, there wasn’t a fight left for it to have, and the man holding tight to its reins leaned back, waving nonchalantly to the audience with the weapon still in his hand. 

The show had begun its first act.

Metal bars lined the carriage’s side, providing a glimpse at the lead actors. Four prisoners huddled within it, clothes torn, with sacks tied over their heads. Eren found himself moving, inching away from the safety of his pillar, trying to get a closer look at them. 

The procession slowed in front of the gallows. Only then did the volume of the onlookers hush, replaced with the thundering of a distant storm. 

Two soldiers approached the back of the carriage. Then its doors clicked open, and they pulled a figure from the inside. The woman’s wrists and ankles were bound, her face was hidden beneath the cloth sack. Yet she fought back. She kicked as much as the restraints would allow her, flinging her head in all directions. Her elbow collided with a soldier’s cheek, and he instantly dropped her to nurse it. 

The other soldier didn’t budge. He dragged her up the execution dock steps, leading her to the noose that hung left stage. Another navy-clad soldier took the injured one’s place. Together, the men forced the prisoner to stand as a rope was draped onto her neck. She didn’t fight when the men stepped away. She stood still, silent, her legs trembling upon a wooden crate. 

Eren hadn’t realized how much he had moved, how far away he had stepped from his hiding place. His mouth gaped open, his heart thumping in his chest. This couldn’t be real. No one would really do this.

A man embellished with medals took the stage as the soldiers busied themselves, preparing each final detail of the execution. He held a long roll of parchment and adjusted the frames over his eyes before reading it, addressing the silent crowds. 

He said the woman’s name. He listed her crimes. He asked if she had anything left to share with the world. 

She only wept. Even without seeing her face, Eren understood her torment. She was trapped. She may have committed atrocities against these people, but here they were… committing one against her. 

Eren moved forward, but he came to an abrupt stop upon catching sight of Colt — eyes wide and jaw tightened. Slowly, Colt shook his head, warning Eren against abandoning Zeke’s plan. 

But… he  _ had  _ to. If they could save Levi, why not save all of them? His mouth fell open, ready to scream for the others to act now, but a thrum of laughter cut him off before he could utter a single word.

The crate had been kicked away. The woman fought again, but there was no one to fight against. Her body writhed where it hung from the scaffold, her hands reaching desperately for her neck. 

Time passed, and Eren remained motionless.

The audience applauded their show. They danced, they  _ mimicked  _ the woman as she bounced on the noose, choking for breath in front of them.

He hunched forward, one hand clinging to his mouth while the other squeezed his stomach. The pale blue of the woman’s skin beneath dirtied clothes remained in his vision. He pleaded with red to take its place. 

They were monsters. All of them. How terrible would it be for one more to appear? 

“Are you alright, sir?” 

Eren shot around, malice clear on his face as he thought of shredding the humans to bits. The soldier shrieked in panic, his hands outstretched before him as Eren stumbled back into the pillar.

“Let me help you,” the soldier said after calming himself, attempting to place his arm under Eren’s. 

“No,” Eren croaked, forcing the rising bile to stay down his throat. “Get away from me.”

“Have you — Have you ever watched a hanging before? I know it’s gruesome, but you don’t seem much older than me. You’ve had to have seen them at least a couple — ”

“I’ve seen worse.” Eren’s fist struck the pillar. “But she didn’t deserve that!” 

“Well, they save the worst offenders for last, so maybe it seems like petty criminals don’t deserve it,” the soldier said, rolling his eyes. “But the governor’s sentence is law. Don’t question decisions beyond your understanding.” 

“Don’t tell me what the hell I should — ” 

“Hey, I’m just watching your back.”

Eren stepped away from the pillar, standing tall. He drew in a deep breath, forcing himself to release the fists at his sides. “I’m not asking you to  _ watch my back,” _ he said. This man was a soldier, a member of the very military who had just killed someone in front of him. He couldn’t be trusted. 

“Maybe not,” the soldier said. “But I’m still a fresh cadet — probably the only person out here who would.” 

Eren glanced back to the scene. Three other soldiers dragged another man onto the stage towards the scaffold reserved for him. Another man, another soul  _ sentenced  _ to this fate. But… it wasn’t Levi. Not yet at least.

“Private Floch Forster.” The soldier extended his hand.

“Eren.” He accepted it. 

“Just Eren?”

“Just Eren.” He tried to ignore the sound of cries and pleas screaming from the stage, begging for mercy. “What did  _ he _ do for the governor to think this is right?” 

“I don’t know much about that one,” Floch said, stiffening. “Three of them are nobodies — petty criminals from off the streets — they’re just here to rile folks up for the main event.”

Eren gritted his teeth. 

“But don’t worry. The real devil today is worthy of the noose.” 

His eyes went wide as they shot to the soldier, finding that Floch’s mouth was curled into something torn between illness and a smile. 

“Devil?” Eren said. 

“Of course,” Floch chuckled, shaking his head. “The devil has his demons — so what is a man who has them as well?” 

“What the hell are you trying to say?” Eren growled, stepping towards the soldier with his fists tight. Floch lifted his chin, meeting Eren’s gaze — unmoving even when he came close. 

“I’m saying,” Floch slowly pronounced each syllable. “Captain Levi is a devil — who else would  _ lust _ for a demon?” 

Eren struck Floch’s jaw, sending him hard into the ground. Floch shrieked wildly as he opened his coat, retrieving an iron bell. “Here! Here!” He screamed as he rang it, reaching for the musket strapped to his back. 

Eren wouldn’t give him the chance to shoot. He took hold of Floch’s vest, flinging him against the pillar. Floch huffed, his voice shrill, but despite the fear present in his eyes, another cruel smile took shape. 

“Levi Ackerman,” announced the hangman. “Tried with treason, piracy, arson — ” 

The voice faded away as he listed the crimes, and Eren’s grip faltered. Floch bolted, scurrying off, but Eren didn’t care where to. His eyes were locked on the man standing atop the crate, searching for something — _ anything _ _ — _ to assure him that this was just another nightmare. That he would wake up on the  _ Sinna,  _ the other’s hands running through his hair… that things would be normal — _ better  _ than normal. That they could see beyond their differences. That they could be together again. That they could be safe. 

Screw the damn plan.

“Levi!” 

He pushed into the crowd, elbowing his way through the masses. Colt jumped onto the dock a moment later, wrapping his arms around two of the men. Galliard joined him, throwing hard swings at anyone who came close. They were doing it, the plan was working, they just needed Pieck…

Children sobbed. Men cursed. Ladies wailed. 

Eren had blown their cover, and now Pieck was trapped in the crowds. A line of navy soldiers ushered the herd back, she had no way of reaching the stage. It was up to Eren.  _ He  _ needed to get there, through the thick hordes of humans to cut Levi down before the crate was kicked from under his feet. But he was trapped, too.

Gunfire rang overhead, ushering in a chorus of screams. The townsfolk fled, shoving each other to escape the courtyard, but Eren pushed back against the tide. He wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t abandon Levi. He couldn’t abandon  _ anyone  _ again.

But they could abandon him.

Pieck had vanished, lost as the audience evacuated the dock. Galliard and Colt exchanged a quick glance, then Colt looked to Eren, shaking his head again. The two turned in an instant, jumping from the stage to make for the ocean shore. 

Without opposition, the hangman resumed his work. At last Eren broke free of the crowds, just as the crate fell from under Levi’s feet. 

Eren sprinted, screaming, but he fell as soon as another gunshot rang and a bullet entered his side. He lay there on the ground, curling farther into himself with each tortured breath. The shot buzzed in his ears. He blinked the dizziness from his sight. He reached out his hand, covered in the red he’d so foolishly summoned, to where the man was dancing with the rope tied to his neck. 

But his part in this show was ending. The last few steps in his choreography, fewer and fewer moves until he went completely still.

“Levi,” Eren croaked once more.

“There it is! Do you see, sir? I got it!” someone called out; someone who sounded far too much like Private Floch Forster. Eren’s teeth gritted; he ought to show the cadet what a devil truly was… but he had been shot, and his body was unwilling to participate. “That’s it, that’s the sea demon!”

Boots thumped against the ground as Eren stared at the hanging bodies, tears blinding his vision. He didn’t look at the soldiers as they forced him onto his knees, one cuffing his wrists while the other bound his ankles.

“What are the odds of that?” Another voice chuckled. Then a blade was at Eren’s throat, lifting his chin up as he closed his eyes. He felt a hand reach into the fabric of his shirt as someone pulled at the key tucked against his chest. 

The key…  _ Levi’s key.  _ What was he to do with it if Levi was  _ gone _ ? __

“It actually worked.”

“We’re fortunate it did,” said a third, commanding the others’ silence like thunder. 

Eren’s eyes opened, squinting in the harsh morning light. It was cloudy. It was always cloudy. But the greys swirling in the sky above were a painful echo of the vibrant color they could have been.

Levi couldn’t be gone. None of this could be  _ real.  _ He squeezed his eyes closed again, even tighter this time, trying to shut the rest of the world out. The captain couldn’t be just another nightmare. He couldn’t become a sad memory that only visited Eren in his dreams. And yet… his name had been called, and his rope had been hung.

“Erwin!” 

He knew the fourth voice well, but it didn’t belong here. Not in this place. Not with these soldiers. Not when its owner was hanging with a noose tied to his neck.

“You weren’t supposed to shoot!” The voice cried again. “You damn bastard!” 

The man flung his body forward, but the commander caught the punch with his hand. “Relax,” Erwin said. “He’s unable to sustain a wound in this form, correct? We needed to subdue him.”

His fist struck the center of Erwin’s chest, but the commander was hardly phased by it. “You said that we’re doing this  _ my  _ way,” said the attacker, taking a wide step back from him.

Eren kneeled there — shocked, mortified, certain he was hallucinating the figure before him or seeing a ghost. 

“Levi?” 

The man stiffened, then he turned to face Eren. A cravat was tucked neatly into his vest. A hand ran through the tresses of his neat hair. The scars on his face webbed out in thick patterns, a dark patch concealing his right eye.

“Hello, brat,” Levi said, tugging at the collar of his gold-trimmed navy coat. “You look like shit.” 


	20. Through the Cracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EREN AND LEVI ARE REUNITED! ...kinda? AND I’M OFF HIATUS! ...also kinda? 
> 
> I’m hoping to get back to my weekly updates soon, but things are still a bit funky so we’ll see. I HAD to update today though because the new AOT season aired! AHHH! 
> 
> Anyways, I’m super stoked about the next few chapters. We’re sorta just checking in with everybody this week, but things are finally about to come together and I can’t wait ;) 
> 
> A huge thank you to Sidereality for their help editing and reviewing this chapter (and for being an amazing friend and encouraging me with my writing ;-;). And thank you all so much for reading!! <3
> 
> Enjoy, and sea you soon!

_White navy sails._

She’d grown wary of their presence, of their unexpected arrival at sea and distant shores. Those sailing under them had been her comrades once, and she knew their ranks well. Yet, as the _Rose_ drew close, gliding over rolling ocean waves, dread gave way to anticipation — to _hope._ Maybe by some miracle, or a random strike of luck, they’d discover the lost members of their crew at last. 

If _anyone_ would have found them first, who else but Erwin?

“Are you sure about this, Captain?” Jean asked, manning the wheel as the _Sinna_ approached the other ship. A shadow loomed over the _Rose’s_ gunwale, the man’s features taking shape as he came into view. 

“It’s him.” The words were but a growl as they left Mikasa’s lips. “The commander. That bastard, he threw Eren over!” 

“I understand how you feel.” Hanji pocketed her spyglass and began making her way towards the stairs of the quarterdeck. “But it’s not like them to approach without firing a warning shot. We need to find out what’s going on.”

“We need to save Eren—”

“We need to save all of them,” Armin finally spoke up, placing a hand on Mikasa’s shoulder. The pair exchanged a glance before she shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. 

“Fine,” she said.

Two soldiers maneuvered a plank into position when the _Rose_ and the _Sinna_ were anchored side by side. Hanji’s stomach turned, catching sight of Erwin as he stepped onto it. She was uncertain of how they’d treat one another if not in battle—it’d been years, after all—and nerves welled inside of her as she imagined what sort of news he might bring. 

“Erwin! My fine Commander Smith!” She waved a hand over her head as he crossed. “To what do we owe this fine pleasure?” 

Mike at his side, Erwin planted his feet firmly to the boards, his presence unrivaled by anyone on the deck. Several more soldiers followed behind as he took a moment to cast his eyes around, surveying the sorry state of what had once been the pride of his fleet. 

If only Levi could see it, Hanji thought. He’d likely strangle her for the mess she’d made. “Was this the best you could do?” She could hear him say, his voice low and stern. “I’ve never seen the _Sinna_ look like such a piece of shit.”

Hanji’s eyes shot open. She hadn’t realized she had closed them, and she gawked at the second figure standing at Erwin’s side. He held his hand to his face, investigating fingertips coated with dust. 

She might have laughed. She might have howled until she keeled over because of how ridiculous he looked. That navy and gold coat had never fit properly, its hem falling long over his knees. The soldier was a ghost from her past, one she hadn’t seen since those first months after meeting him. Shattered with grief. Drowning in pain. But even back then, when he’d hardly muttered a word back to her—let alone entertained any semblance of conversation—he’d always been him. 

“Levi!” 

She might have laughed if the tears weren’t already forming, if relief wasn’t suddenly overwhelming her, if her arms weren’t already wrapped around him. 

Then he shoved her away. 

_Typical_ . If only _everything_ could be typical. 

She stepped back quickly, wiping her dripping eyes with a sleeve hem. Her captain. Her _friend._ She didn’t know if Levi would call her that himself — she didn’t know if he’d call _anyone_ that, actually. But she knew the bond that had formed between him and the crew was undeniable, and here he was — so here _they_ must be, too.

“I’ve been so worried,” Hanji confessed, sniffing and prodding her reddening nose with her wrist. “Damn you Levi. Oh! Oh, _damn_ Levi! What happened to your face?” 

He turned away, shielding his patched eye and the sprawl of scars on his cheek from her view.

“Levi has been under close medical care for several months,” Erwin said before Hanji could demand a better answer. The commander stepped forward, pushing past Hanji towards the captain’s quarters. Mike kept pace with him. Then Levi followed. 

“The map is located in the back of the room.” Erwin nudged Mike. “Inside Levi’s trunk. Only a copy, but the encryption is written on it.” 

Mike pushed the curtain hung from the doorway aside for his companions. Hanji’s crew stood still, gaping as Erwin stepped into the keep. 

“What the hell is going on?” Hanji grabbed Levi’s elbow before he could follow, and his entire body tensed. “What happened to you, Levi? Where are the others?” 

He didn’t turn to her, nor did he elaborate. “They’re dead,” he said after a moment. Then he pulled away once more and abandoned the entry to his old home, swiftly crossing to the front of the ship, leaving her behind… again. 

Hanji wanted to follow him. She wanted to demand answers, some sort of an explanation at least. 

_Dead?_

They couldn’t be. The risks had been high, yes, but they’d had _Levi_ with them. He was only one man, but he had skills equal to that of an entire crew of rippers. How could they… it wasn’t possible. 

Hanji’s knees crumpled beneath her, and she sank to the deck. Eren and Olou and Eld and Gunther and Petra. This couldn’t be real.

“Get your dirty hands off her! Hey!” a voice shrieked somewhere up ahead, and heavy eyes drifted in its direction. 

A soldier held tight to Krista’s wrist, tugging her back in the _Rose’s_ direction. She squirmed in his grasp, punching his arm and kicking at his shins as another soldier subdued Ymir. Erwin and Mike emerged from the captain’s quarters, and the soldier started beaming. 

“Sir! Commander Erwin!” he cried out, a smile stretching wide on his face. “I recognize this girl. I recognize her! She’s the—”

“Let go of me!” 

“She’s the girl on the posters. She’s Governor Reiss’s daughter!” 

Erwin tucked the map—the copy, _Petra’s_ copy—into his coat pocket, his interest piqued. 

“Is this true?” Erwin asked the girl.

Ymir froze, shaking her head frantically when Krista looked her way. 

“My name is Historia Reiss,” she said, her voice carrying loudly and with an elegant authority that had been absent before. “I joined this crew of my own free will, and I intend to stay.” 

What the hell? No, no, no, _what in the seven seas was going on?_

“I appreciate your honesty,” Erwin replied. Then he looked to his soldiers, nodding his head. “Escort her to the _Rose,_ Forster.” 

“No!” Ymir screamed as the soldier dragged Krista— _Historia_ — across the deck, several others rushing to aid the one holding her back. She pushed them off and fought her way to Hanji, dropping to her knees to kneel in front of her. “Captain!” 

Hanji blinked, pulled from a daze she—once again—hadn’t been aware she’d fallen into.

“She can’t go back there,” Ymir continued through harsh breaths. “That family… they’re just trying to use her. You have to do something! Hanji, _please!”_

Ymir’s eyes were thick with tears, her pupils blown wide. She looked almost rabid, _terrifying._ The only thing that could pull Hanji free of her own grief was the intensity of Ymir’s. _“Use_ her?” 

“I—I can’t explain it,” Ymir tugged at the back of her neck. “Please, just don’t let them take her. Do something to stop them.” 

There was only one thing she _could_ do. 

“Wait here.”

She stomped to the front of the deck, nudging past crew and soldiers alike until she reached the bow. There he was. Cigar in hand. Smoke billowing out of his mouth. 

“Hey, grouchy!” She ripped the cigar away from him and pitched it over the horizon.

“Hanji—” 

“Just who do you think you are?” She shoved his shoulders, and he hadn’t the chance to catch himself, stumbling against the side of the ship. “Everyone is _dead_ and you show up asking questions about your ship?! You don’t even say anything about them?!” 

He tugged at his coat collar, his brows furrowed as he grimaced. 

“What the hell happened? Why won’t you tell me?!” She pushed him again.

“You’ve not told me plenty of things!” He shoved her back. 

“I tell you what you need to know!” Her arms flew above her head, shaky fists catching at her sides. “And I—” 

Tears began again before she could consider hiding them, before she could blame him any more than herself for whatever had gone wrong. She could have stopped them. She could have forced Levi to give up on the nest. She’d just hoped someone else would have instead. 

“I need to know this.”

Levi hunched over the gunwale, fingers pressing hard into his temples. His body trembled, quaking with each shallow breath. “I don’t know what happened,” he finally said. 

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I was unconscious,” he spat, turning to face her as he fingered the thick scars patterned onto half of his face. “In case you haven’t noticed, I hardly made it out alive.” 

“Then,” Hanji whispered, sick to her stomach with shock. “How did you?” 

“You should have an idea.” His jaw tensed, arms crossing over his chest. “You knew well before I did.”

Hanji stared at him, her mind reeling over what he was trying to say. Then at once it came to her, and her question made Levi recoil as if he was about to be sick. “Eren?”

“Yes,” he pushed through his teeth. _“Him.”_

“Oh, gods. Levi, please don’t tell me you—” 

“I _didn’t,”_ he said. “But maybe I should have.”

“You don’t mean that,” Hanji protested. “You wouldn’t kill him.” 

Levi dodged her reaching hand, and Hanji tried to ignore the offense. Even if he wouldn’t accept her comfort or the words she was saying, she knew she was right. She knew that pairing the two together had been a risk from the moment she’d theorized Eren was a mer. She knew Levi wouldn’t hesitate to take out what he believed to be a monster. She _knew_ all of that… yet she’d done it anyway. She’d forced them to spend time together, she’d played along with the fantasy. If there was a chance, even a small one, that Eren could show Levi there was more to the creatures than terror and death and hate… it was a risk she’d been willing to take. 

And her hypothesis had proved correct. 

Levi’s face twisted. He rubbed hard at his eyes before squeezing the bridge of his nose. He inhaled a sharp breath and held it, unwilling to move his single eye from the floors. 

“C’mon, Levi. This is Eren we’re talking about.” 

“He’s a monster.” 

“What makes you so certain?” She crouched until her face was directly before his, forcing their gazes to meet. “Was he a monster when he saved your life? Or when he took the commander’s bullet?” 

Levi remained silent. 

“How about all those nights you spent tangled up in your keep?” 

If circumstances were different, she’d be giggling by now. 

“Did you think he was a monster when you realized you loved him, Levi?” 

With a swipe of his arm he shoved her away, storming towards the back of the ship. 

“Don’t walk away from me, Levi!” She pulled at his elbow again. “Do you really think parading around with Erwin is—”

His foot stomped onto her toe, and she grabbed it, hopping foolishly. 

“How many letters?” He yelled as he backed away from her. “How many letters did you send him, Hanji?” 

Too many to count. She’d lost track after updating the commander of her first ventures in cooking (which hadn’t gone well). She hadn’t wanted to keep secrets from Levi, but she couldn’t tell him about her discoveries. He wouldn’t have had it. He’d hear nothing of mer unless it was of hunting them. For that, she needed Erwin. 

“Levi, I—”

“I trusted you,” he croaked. “You were my second.” 

“I still am.” 

“No. If you were, you wouldn’t… you wouldn’t have done this.” 

He turned again, resuming his path to the bridge linking the _Rose_ and the _Sinna._ Hanji followed aimlessly. All she’d wanted was to find him, to find all of them—for life to resume to the relatively simple normalcy of the time they’d spent together. To drink on the deck as instruments played a steady tune. To dance with the others, their hands linked as they skipped back and forth. To aid Levi in his quest, hoping he’d one day come to his senses and abandon it altogether. 

She’d been so close to getting him there. 

“Where is he?!” 

_Oh no._

Mikasa’s dual blades were ready in hand, aimed at the very man who had taught her to wield them. Jean and Armin held her on either side, pulling her back from where Levi stood on the plank. 

“Where is Eren?!” She cried again, and Hanji realized she’d failed to discover even that simple truth. 

“Would you like to see him?” Erwin interrupted, extending an open palm. “I’m Commander Smith, it’s a pleasure.” 

“I don’t care who the hell you are,” Mikasa growled. “Tell me where he is!” 

“I’ll take you to him,” Erwin said, abandoning his hospitality to push her blades away. “If you’ll leave your weapons here. And with the permission of your captain, of course.”

Mikasa and Armin looked to Hanji. 

Why the hell did she have to be in charge?

\- - -

Chains were cuffed to his wrists, stretching his arms to either side of the cell. A third, thicker coil of iron and brass covered his tail, keeping him down. His head hung in front of him, the long locks of his hair still dripping and wet. He didn’t look up when he heard footsteps making their way down the stairs—he didn’t dare. Not if they were carrying buckets with them. Not if they were ready to drown him again. 

“Eren!” 

That voice wasn’t a soldier’s... but why would _she_ be here?

 _Here._ The _Rose’s_ prison, he reminded himself. How many days had passed… he couldn’t be sure. He’d been dragged onto the ship, down into the darkness of its cells, and left to the navy’s mercy. Though they had little of it. They wanted to ‘witness his transformation firsthand.’ The moment a bucket was emptied, another was ready in hand. 

When the visits first began, he’d expected to hear Levi’s voice following the footsteps. Rather, he’d _wanted_ to hear him. It didn’t matter what the man said, if only he’d just say… well, _anything._

But Levi hadn’t come, and here Eren had remained. 

“Five minutes,” Eren recognized exactly who was speaking, and he felt his skin curl. The commander’s very own lackey, or someone who desperately wanted to be one. “Don’t get too close to it,” Private Floch Forster said. 

“Eren, can you hear me?” Armin said, kneeling in front of the cell, but Eren could hardly make out his voice as Mikasa threatened Forster behind him.

Eren blinked, trying to rid his eyes of the salt water’s sting. Armin’s own eyes were welling, the crescents underneath swollen and dark. Really, how much time had passed? His hair had been cut, his skin had grown tan— _was that a piercing?_ Their time apart had changed Eren, but it had changed the others as well. 

Mikasa dropped beside Armin, grasping tight to the iron bars lining the cell. “Are you hurt?” 

His mouth opened, but his throat went dry. He said nothing. 

“What happened to you, Eren? What… what went wrong?” 

Gritting his teeth tight, he shook his head, suddenly desperate to free himself of the restraints. _Everything_ had gone wrong. He could still hear the crew screaming in his mind. 

“We need to get him out of here.” Mikasa stood and paced the _Rose’s_ prison block. She crouched in the farthest corner, picking through discarded sailing tools that had little hope in aiding their escape. “I swear, I’m going to carve that little bastard into a thousand pieces. This is all his fault. I’ll—” 

“I don’t think so,” Armin said. “Captain Levi didn’t seem to be in control. I don’t think he’d let them do something like this.”

“I don’t care,” she growled. “It doesn’t matter if he wanted them to or not. It isn’t safe for Eren here.”

Of course it wasn’t. He was a captured mer on a navy ship.

“They’re after something… _unreal,_ Eren,” Armin tried to explain. “Unreal, except it is real. They’re willing to sacrifice you to get it. They think… they think you’re a monster.” 

He shifted slightly, his body suddenly feeling lax. The word would have had some effect on him months—maybe even weeks—ago. But now, it was the only thing he was certain of. Eren knew it was the truth. 

“I _am_ a monster.” 

Mikasa paused her work, dropping a wooden oar she had braced to the cell’s lock. Armin’s eyes went wide, his outstretched hand slowly pulling back. 

“You know that’s not true,” Mikasa croaked. 

“Come on,” Armin agreed, his voice shaking. “We know you, Eren. Just think of everything we’ve been through. You wouldn’t—You couldn’t do any of that if you were a monster.”

Everything they’d been through… Their days spent in the harbor, playing in the waves until dawn gave way to morning. The brief moments when things had seemed alright on the _Sinna_ , when they could dance and drink and eat and simply be together without question of who or _what_ they were.

“Was your mother a monster?” Armin’s hand clasped his mouth when Mikasa asked.

 _No,_ of course she wasn’t, and that’s why rippers had torn her apart.

“If she was,” Eren said. “She’d still be alive.” 

They remained silent, watching the mer in disbelief until the soldier returned, demanding that it was time for them to leave.

 _“She_ wasn’t a monster.” He hung his head again, gold raging in the pools of his dripping eyes, words leaving his lips in a snarl. “But maybe I should be.”


	21. Beyond Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, another one of my favorite chapters ;) Hehehehe
> 
> As always a hugeee thank to Sidereality for helping me edit this chapter and catching when I accidentally make up words. You are amazing!! And thank all of YOU for reading, commenting, and kudos(ing)! You make sharing this story so much fun ;-; <3
> 
> I finally have a steady break from work and school coming up (thank goodness) and I’m planning to spend a lot of it writing, so I expect to sea you next week! 
> 
> Until then, enjoy! :,D

“Alright, now take a deep breath.”

He did as instructed, if for no other reason than to mislead his prey. 

“In through your nose,” the medic said as he probed Eren’s back with a cold, metal tool. It wasn’t like the ones from Hanji’s medical chest, the ones he’d grown so familiar with during his stay aboard the  _ Sinna _ _ — _ he wasn’t being stitched back together this time. 

The man patted between Eren’s shoulder blades, and he could almost feel the water stir inside his lungs. He wanted to cough it up; he  _ needed  _ his legs right now if this was to work, after all. But it lingered, stagnant liquid pooling inside of him, preventing his transformation. 

“Out through your mouth,” the medic coaxed. 

Eren released his breath, choking as the air escaped his throat. It was all that did. He clutched his hand to his mouth, wheezing with the dry burn as he drew more in. 

His companion sighed and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Alright,” he said, returning the unfamiliar item to the chest lodged in the corner of the cell. “It’s not working, so you’re just going to have to try and eat.”

The man had to have a death wish. Not only had he entered Eren’s cell, but he’d  _ unchained him.  _ Now he was telling him to  _ eat?  _ It was practically an invitation. 

Of course killing him would be easier in this form. Eren’s claws would make easy work of the man’s neck, and his teeth would take care of the rest. Killing him wasn’t the problem. What made Eren hesitate was the logistics of his escape. 

He’d never been very good at that. 

If he could just  _ cough up the damn water.  _ Had his body grown so tired of breaking during each of the soldiers’ visits that it’d finally released him from such torment? Now wasn’t the time, not when he’d finally accepted what he was. 

It’d be a shame to kill the medic, really. He wasn’t like the other soldiers. He was dressed like them, he spoke like them, but he was different. He didn’t carry dripping buckets. He didn’t force cloth into Eren’s mouth when he screamed. Instead he wiped at the gash the others cut over Eren’s brow. He applied a balm to his bruised skin, wiping tearing eyes when its strong scent made them burn. 

He was trying to help. He was a good person. He wasn’t a monster hidden among humans. 

But Eren was. 

Saliva grew thick on his tongue, and he felt his lips purse. His fingers spread over the splintered boards of his prison cell, steadying him as he coiled his body. He readied himself for the hunt. It was impossible to resist. The man’s back remained turned to the mer as he hunched over his supplies, blood coursing through his veins, his pulse thrumming in Eren’s ears. 

He wouldn’t be sorry for what he was about to do. Not anymore. He wouldn’t apologize for what he was. 

“Get the hell out of there, Moblit.” 

The medic looked at the figure standing at the base of the stairs, hidden in shadows. Then he noticed Eren. Moblit scampered out of the cell as the mer lunged, dropping a roll of bread he’d retrieved from his chest as he slammed the gate shut. 

Eren pushed against the cell, one hand wrapped around a bar while the other yanked his prey’s sleeve. The torn fabric dangled by threads, and the man fell back once he’d fumbled a key into the lock, shrill pants in place of every breath. 

“I — I don’t understand. He was fine just a minute ago!” 

“No one’s supposed to be down here unsupervised.” The man at the stairs finally approached, grabbing Moblit by the back of his coat and pulling him to his feet. “Definitely not for what you were just doing. And  _ especially _ not in the middle of the night.” 

“I just… he was in so much pain.” Moblit covered his eyes. “I’m supposed to  _ help  _ people. He may be a prisoner, but I can’t just stand by and not do anything.” 

“You’re supposed to help  _ people.”  _

Moblit said nothing in return, his eyes still covered. 

“Head back to your post. The commander will be livid if he finds out about this.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Moblit brushed off the hem of his coat, but adjusting his messied clothes couldn’t hide his mangled sleeve. Body trembling, he headed for the stairs, but he paused when he reached the first, slowly turning back. “If no one’s supposed to be here in the middle of the night,” he said. “Then why are you, Levi?” 

Eren had been writhing on the floor, his hands grasping at the cell’s iron bars, his appetite drowning him in desire and need. He had been lost in his hunt, lost to his curse, until he heard the other man’s name. Golden eyes darted around the room, landing on the figure standing before him. Before him, but still faced away. 

“I’m here so you didn’t get yourself eaten, you shit,” Levi snapped. “Now get the hell out.” 

Moblit was gone seconds later, though he’d tripped and stumbled as he rushed up the stairs. Levi drew in a deep breath, his shoulders noticeably shaking when he finally exhaled. The tremors were starting. It hadn’t taken long, and Eren knew it was because of him. 

He’d have reached out once. He’d have done anything for Levi’s quakes to still, for the man to know he was safe. 

_ Anything. _

But he’d already done everything. 

He couldn’t continue to give if all the other did was take. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t one of the monsters Levi despised when they both knew the truth. Instead of reaching out, instead of taking the other’s hand, instead of pressing his lips to Levi’s temple as he once did, Eren remained still. 

At last, Levi turned around, moving in slow steps until he was nearly arms length from the opening of the cell, taking a knee.

Eren didn’t move. His knuckles went pale as his grip tightened on the bars. He licked at the tips of his fangs tucked inside his mouth, his lips starting to curl. 

Their eyes didn’t meet, Eren’s were trained on the other’s every move. Levi reached into his coat pocket — into his  _ navy-issued  _ coat pocket. What was he reaching for? A knife? His pistol? Some tool to help him rip Eren apart? 

“Here,” he said. The scent reached Eren’s nostrils, and the tension dressing his face eased. Levi extended his hand, offering a bundle of dried meat strips. 

It was cruel of the man to tease him like this. Cruel of Levi to remind him how simple things once were. But Eren refused to be toyed with. He released the iron bars, a growl rumbling deep within his chest as he dragged himself to the back of the cell. 

“You must be hungry,” Levi’s voice cracked on his final word. “Come on, brat, eat.” 

Was this an invitation as well? 

Something struck the floor in front of his cell, recalling Eren’s attention from the yawning vortex of his hunger. Levi held tight to the bars, shaking as he dropped to both knees. He turned, leaning his back against the front of the cell, catching his face with a hand.

Eren could hear him. His heartbeat. Each breath. The steady pulse of life being carried through his veins. He listened, ignoring the dull hum of the ocean outside, relishing in the simple familiarity of everything he’d lost. Then Levi’s breath hitched. 

“You really do look like shit, you know.” Levi lifted his chin, releasing a deep sigh as he leaned further against the bars of the cell. 

“You look terrible in blue.” 

Levi snorted, shaking his head to either side.

The mer huddled in the back of his cell, the ripper guarding its front. The monster recoiling into himself, the hunter with his back turned and utterly vulnerable. They should be going for the kill right now. They should be fighting to the death to determine whether Eren would remain a prisoner or escape. But the silence was comfortable. It was easy. Easy to pretend they weren’t in the middle of the ocean on the bottom level of the  _ Rose.  _ Easy to imagine they were back aboard the  _ Sinna,  _ alone in their keep. The other man’s presence was calming, even if it shouldn’t have been. Eren’s heavy eyelids finally fell closed. 

“Kenny taught me my trade.”

They shot back open. 

“He was tough — he still is — but he was tougher back then.” Levi didn’t turn. He spoke straight ahead as if someone was listening there, as if Eren wasn’t even present. “We learned how to track, how to fight, how to kill at first glance. My family and me. I’m sure it’s the same for you — for your kind.” 

How much further could he be from the truth? Eren didn’t  _ want  _ this, he’d never been taught anything. Not how to kill, not how to hunt… It was the very nature of his being, etched into his instincts. He’d simply been born into this world, and for it he’d been cursed.

“You don’t think about the faces of those you kill, or look them in the eyes. Monsters can trick you that way, they almost seem human if you do,” Levi said. “So I never gave any the chance.” 

Eren had been bracing himself to scream, to protest everything Levi was saying. But then the man turned, his eyepatch failing to conceal all the new scars patterned onto his face. Eren’s fingers twitched. He could feel his claws sinking into the soft tissue of Levi’s cheek. He felt his stomach turn, regret and satisfaction boiling within him at once.  _ He _ had done this, and he wasn’t sure whether that made him sick or… or proud. 

“But you,” Levi whispered, interrupting Eren’s thoughts. “You really had me fooled.” 

He hadn’t meant to.

“I trusted you… I  _ wanted _ to trust you,” Levi said. “I actually thought — I believed that maybe — ”

“Do you think I want this? That I  _ enjoy  _ being some monster?” Eren spat. “Well, I don’t! I don’t think anyone does but you!” 

“I’m not a monster. I don’t  _ eat  _ people.”

“No! You murder them instead!” 

“And you?” Levi almost laughed. He forced himself up, kneading the muscle on the back of his calf — where a mer from the nest had bitten him, Eren remembered. “What’s your game?” 

Eren opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. 

“Do you stow away on every ship you come across?” Levi limped forward, taking hold of the bars lining the cell. “Is death your personal affair?”

It wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t. But Eren didn’t have any other explanation for why he’d remained aboard the _Sinna_ _—_ not one he accepted, anyways. Was he really _‘charmed’_ by Frieda? Had he been doing the descendants’ bidding all along? 

_ “The curse you resisted was hers,”  _ Zeke’s voice echoed through his mind. Eren stared at Levi, at the messied tresses of dark hair falling over his brows, hiding his face. His composure was gone. That cool facade was a distant memory. He was here, standing in front of Eren, falling apart.

“Were you trying to stop me?” Levi broke the silence. “When I gave you the key, when you touched it, you went berserk. Then the others showed up. Is that what you were after — the key? Is that what  _ everything _ was about?” 

“Levi.” The man’s gaze rose from the ground, falling back onto Eren. “If I was after the key, why would I be here now?”

“What?” 

Eren reached for the cord still tied at his neck, pulling the treasure off his bare chest. “I wouldn’t have gone after you; I wouldn’t be here now, if this was all I wanted.” 

Levi’s mouth fell open, but he said nothing back.

“But I met others — _ strangers _ _ — _ and they wanted it. They probably still do. They’re terrified of you. And, well, I guess that they should be.” 

“I should be terrified of _ them,” _ Levi snapped. “Of all of you.” 

“I’m afraid, too.” Eren ran a hand through his tangled hair. It was nearly dry, only slightly damp from his most recent soldier’s visit. “I lose myself. I lose control. Blood in the water, its scent in the air… you think you’re after some power, right? That’s not what it is, Levi. It’s a  _ curse,  _ and I can’t escape it.”

“You could be making that up.” 

“Why the hell would I make  _ anything  _ up?” 

“To trick me again.” 

“Will you shut the hell up? If I was like you — if I had a  _ choice _ _ — _ I wouldn’t hurt anyone!” 

“Is that so?” Levi pulled a knife from his hip, pointing its tip at Eren. “You think you don’t have a choice?” 

“I know that I don’t! I can’t — ” 

Eren’s voice faded when the blade punctured skin, when the knife dragged a shallow line, giving way to Levi’s flesh. Its scent hit the air, and thin rivers streamed from the wound, bleeding down the man’s wrist. 

He was gone. Lost to his senses, lost to his curse. He hadn’t felt so rabid since he’d been shot, when he’d infringed on the stranger’s meal and taken a sailor’s leg for himself. He’d take an arm now, he’d take all of Levi if he could. He’d always wanted to, he couldn’t deny that. Frieda’s charms had driven him mad.

His hands stretched past the cell bars, grabbing desperately at the empty space where the other had previously stood. He thrashed his fin, lamenting how easy it’d be to catch his prey if they were submerged in water. But they weren’t. They were on a ship. On the  _ Rose.  _ He was a prisoner. He was Levi’s prisoner. Levi was standing a short ways in front of him. 

Levi. 

He’d dropped his bloodied hand to his side and stepped back from the near assault. He’d been proven wrong, and his face twisted into an expression Eren couldn't place. His mouth gaped open. His brows plummeted. His eye… locked onto Eren’s. 

He found himself there, drowning in the silver depths. Eren squeezed his eyes tight, then he dropped his own hands, his entire body giving way and thumping hard onto the floor. 

“I told you,” his voice cracked as weak sobs took shape. “I lose control.”

The sound of Levi’s boots thumped over the floors. Then he kneeled again, and Eren didn’t flinch when the bloodied hand found a place atop his head. 

“Sit up,” he said, and when Eren did Levi took hold of his face, pulling him close through the bars of the cell. The man paused, brushing his thumb over the gash Moblit had tended to on Eren’s forehead, his eye darting over the cuts and bruises adorning the other’s skin.

“What’s wrong?” Eren thought to pull away, to put distance between the two of them. Of course he knew what was wrong. They were enemies — monsters. One was bound to snap eventually, as Eren  _ just had.  _ He wasn’t certain how long he could resist the temptation of the other, especially with the proximity of his still-bleeding wrist, or if he’d even be able to again.

“This wasn’t part of the deal,” Levi whispered, his voice teetering, cracking over itself. “This is all my fault.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“All I’ve ever done is make mistakes,” Levi shook his head. “This was supposed to  _ fix  _ them.” 

“Is this a mistake, Levi?” 

Silver met gold, and Eren felt the water inside his lungs finally shift. Levi’s hands still grasped his jaw, and all he wanted was for them to stay there. His legs weren’t needed for his escape, not now anyways. He felt himself gag, beginning to choke on the liquid in his chest that needed to come out, but he held it back, waiting for something — _ anything _ _ — _ from Levi as he leaned in close.

“Eren, I — ”

There was no whistle of warning. No time to prepare. A cannon launched its assault into the  _ Rose’s  _ hull, and Eren and Levi were broken apart. 

“Shit!” Levi yelled, but he was back on his feet before Eren had the chance to recover, rushing towards the flight of stairs that would take him to the deck. 

“Levi!” Eren cried, but his voice didn’t carry. It was muted by coughs, by gagging, as water began sputtering out of his mouth. Another cannon fired, and he heard its warning this time, followed by the battle cry of those boarding the ship above.

The prison echoed with his fin’s crack, then all was silenced by his screams. 


	22. Shades of Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update? AN UPDATE! 
> 
> I meant to share this earlier, but this chapter was a big challenge for me so I wanted to take my time with it. We’ve got a lot finally coming together this week, and I’m *ridiculously* excited for what’s next. 
> 
> You may notice that this chapter has a title! I’ve been debating adding chapter names for a while and FINALLY convinced myself to do it. They’re all listed now if you’re interested in seeing :,D 
> 
> As always, thank you so so much for reading <3 This little story means a lot to me and I’m so stoked to share it with you :,) Thank you to my betta (fish) Sidereality, whose help and encouragement I would literally be nothing without ;_; <3
> 
> I hope you’re enjoying the holidays if you celebrate any, have fun and stay safe <3 For now, it’s back to endless writing for me… 
> 
> ENJOY!

Hanji had mutinied before. 

She’d been labeled a traitor. She _was_ one, in fact. She’d set flame to her own ship — her darling _Maria_ _—_ with her allies, her comrades. She’d thought it was the right thing to do. She’d thought it’d set them free.

Now… she didn’t know what she was doing. 

“We have to save him,” Mikasa had said after gathering the crew in the center of the deck. Only minutes had passed since the navy’s departure, yet she was a force ready to descend upon them. “I don’t care what any of you think about mer. Eren is a _person_ , and they’re torturing him! I’m going whether you’re with me or not.” 

“I’m with you.” Of all the people who would step up and support Mikasa, Hanji hadn’t expected Ymir. “They took Historia, and she… she can’t go back with them.” 

Their thrown-together crew was all hands on deck. Each of its members was ready to come to Ymir and Mikasa’s aid. They’d have gone about their plan even if Hanji hadn’t approved. 

But she had. 

What did that make her now? A traitor to a traitor? A turncoat second hand to the captain who didn’t want her to begin with?

Her hands burned as she grasped tightly to the rope, kicking off from the _Sinna’s_ gunwale into the center space between the ships. The _Rose_ was silent, the majority of her denizens asleep _._ The few soldiers on watch were circled near the quarterdeck, cards and booze in their hands. A cannon fired from the _Sinna_ , its whistle a heavy tune signalling war, and she felt its assault rumble beneath her feet when they landed on the floors of the enemy ship. 

It was nearly identical to the _Sinna._ Larger, but not as large as the _Maria_ had been. Its white sails had confined her to their will when she’d sailed under them—so many laws and guidelines to follow. Yet she longed for those days as she gazed up at them now. She wished things could be as they were, that she could see those lost comrades again, even if only one more time.

A soldier rushed her, but Hanji easily deflected the attack. The navy didn’t squander its resources on intensive training for new recruits—why would they, when most were fated to be eaten?—and the young woman throwing a musket her way was hardly a fair match. Hanji ducked out of the weapon’s path, taking a knee on the _Rose’s_ pristine floors, unsheathing her own blade and striking the blunt edge to her opponent’s shins. The girl went down, frantically examining herself for evidence of injury, and Hanji stood back up.

“Head for the hatch!” Armin ordered. He’d crossed a plank between the two ships; Sasha and Connie’s contribution to the boarding effort. His plan was working—so far. With enough distractions, they just might be able to free the captives from the ship’s prison. What happened after that was… open to interpretation. 

Some of the crew were set on taking Eren back to the _Sinna._ Others wanted to throw him into the sea. Either way, Hanji wasn’t certain how exactly they were going to get out of this mess. 

The _Rose_ was awake now, after all. 

Mikasa took the lead, rushing ahead of the others as Sasha and Connie split to hold back approaching soldiers. “Hurry up!” she cried. But as she turned the corner to the stairs belowdecks, her body smacked into another rushing up. Both of them fell hard into the floor, and Mikasa held her forehead, blinking repeatedly until she realized who the man was. 

“You bastard!” She lunged at him, her blades ready to attack before her opponent had even freed his. He rolled away before she could strike, before she could end the life that had narrowly escaped death so often.

It was under sails like these that Hanji had first met him, that she’d witnessed the terror and pain shielded behind those eyes. He’d never let her see past it since. Those walls stood firm even when he looked to her now. 

“Don’t get distracted!” Hanji skipped ahead of the others, finding her place between the man on the floor and his assailant. “Go on! Get Eren and Historia and get back to the _Sinna!_ Go!” 

She wasn’t cut out to be a captain, to make the decisions or order people around. But of every call she’d made while in charge of this measly little crew, she knew that this one was right. 

“I said go!” 

Mikasa reluctantly departed, and Armin nodded his head, following. Hanji guarded the hatch as they disappeared into it, bracing herself for the onslaught of adversaries the cries surrounding her hailed. 

“Hanji, what the hell are you doing?”

She sheathed her cutlass, replacing it with her gold and oak pistol. She cocked the weapon, taking aim at the man on the floor. 

“Hey, grouchy.”

\- - -

Of all the idiots Ymir had met on the _Sinna,_ those two might be the most idiotic. 

She tried to keep pace with them, but Mikasa and Armin were down the stairs before she could even hope to catch up. So ecstatic to save their friend. So willing to face a monster. 

A crack echoed through the hallway, and it was followed by a string of cries Ymir could describe as nothing short of horrific. Their friend—Eren—didn’t look any better than how he was sounding. His back arched toward the ceiling. Bones stuck out of his fin. Blood and tissue painted the floor.

She almost felt sorry for him. A mer caught by humans had little chance of survival—especially a mer caught by humans who were after the _curse._ If they wanted to use him as their special “sacrifice,” then by all means they would. 

Ymir didn’t care what happened either way. She wasn’t here for his sake. 

“Historia!” She called out. Her voice filled the room as she rushed to the opposite side of the hall, hope and fear and worry all rising within her at once. She rubbed her eyes, blinking away dust and gunpowder that had long been coated there. Dread snuffed out the maelstrom of emotions in her gut.

She’d seen them take her. She _knew_ this was where Historia had to be. But the rest of the cells were empty. 

“She’s not here!” 

The heel of her boot squeaked when she abruptly turned, sprinting back to the other end of the hall. Mikasa and Armin hunched over Eren, coaxing him to snap out of his trance. They really were idiots. Did they think they could just ask him to stand up and walk out of here? And before his body was even finished tearing apart? They had no idea what he was going through. 

Some _even bigger_ idiot had given them the chance, though. Ymir pulled the forgotten keys out of the cell’s lock, tucking them into her vest. Wherever the navy monsters had thought to imprison Historia, she’d need these to get her out.

“Hey! Did you hear me?” Ymir entered the cell, ignoring the uneasiness turning inside her at being behind its bars. “I said she’s not here!” 

The pair didn’t answer. They were too busy swooning over Eren. 

“Come on, pal!” She crouched, shoving the others aside to take hold of Eren’s face, speaking directly to him. “Have you seen her? Cute blonde girl, big eyes like a guppy—” 

“Get off of him!” Mikasa shoved her back, and though she stumbled standing up, Ymir readied herself to fight. 

But a flash of gold stole her will. 

The mer had spent too much time around pirates. It hung around his neck like some sort of jewelry piece to be flaunted. A small, insignificant thing; a harbinger of destruction.

She wanted to take it, to sink it to the bottom of the sea or swallow it down into her stomach. That’s why she was here, after all, wasn’t it? But she knew it wouldn’t be of any use. She knew _they’d_ still find it. They’d tear her to pieces to get the key back if they had to. Her death would only be a minor inconvenience. 

The gold made her sick. It made her want, _need,_ to serve her purpose... But it did more than just that. She thought of her, of Historia, of the girl wading around in a dirty bath—damp locks of hair curled onto her face, tears falling from those damning eyes. 

“Please.” When had she started to cry? She _didn’t_ cry. And she especially didn’t cry in front of others. “I just want to see her again.”

“Then come on.”

The three of them turned to where the voice had sounded from as Eren continued wheezing on the floor. Jean stepped out of the shadows from the corner of the hall, brushing his arm against his mouth. He looked ill. He _was_ ill. As soon as he glanced toward the carnage on the prison floor, his eyes shifted away and he started gagging again.

“Jean,” Armin spoke up. “What do you think?”

“We came for two prisoners, and we’ve got one,” Jean said. “You two get Eren back to the _Sinna._ Ymir, we’ll find your girl.”

“Yeah.” Ymir wiped her sleeve to face, drying her eyes, reclaiming her resolve. “Let’s go.”

\- - -

His eye was locked on the barrel, on the swirls of gold cascading over Hanji’s pistol. Despite all the shit the military had stuck them with—dull blades and rotting oars—hers was a fine weapon. _Fine_ _—_ she’d taken down hundreds wielding it — and _pointed at him._

Things were different now. Of course they were. He’d gotten everyone she loved killed. He’d have gotten her killed, too, if they’d followed his original plan, if she’d gone into the nest. He’d never expected Hanji’s bullet to be the last thing he’d see, but maybe this was an end he deserved.

“Shitty glasses—” 

“Keep it down!” She howled, freeing her cutlass again and placing it under his chin. “I can’t focus with you blabbering.” 

Then she aimed that pistol elsewhere, and her shot took an unsuspecting soldier down.

“Hanji!” She was sending herself to the gallows. She had to know that, but she ignored everything he was saying—his pleas for her to think logically and accept a pardon from Erwin—and fired again. “Stop this! What do you think you’re—” 

“Hah! Really, Levi?” Hanji cackled as she stepped forward, keeping her blade pressed to his throat. “What do _I_ think _I’m_ doing?” 

She crouched in front of him, and though Levi’s mouth fell open, he failed to respond.

“Ask yourself that damn question.”

“You don’t _know_ what I’m doing,” he gritted out. 

And it was the truth. She didn’t. How could she know what he had planned when he didn’t know himself? 

Taking Erwin’s deal had been his only option. It was that or the noose. This was his final chance to claim the power, to find answers, to see Eren again.

But now that he had… what was he to believe? 

He knew what had to be done; he’d known since _that night._ The seas were haunted by mer. They’d sunken ships, they’d killed thousands, they’d taken everything — _everyone_ _—_ from him. 

Even the brat with emerald eyes. 

Levi had watched him, tested him. He’d searched for some confirmation of what he’d always known to be true. But whatever it was he’d been looking for… nothing resembling it had been there to find. It wasn’t a wicked monster writhing on the floors. It wasn’t a creature hoping to devour him. He was angry. He was terrified. He was just… He was Eren. 

“Captain!” 

Levi and Hanji both turned to where the voice had called from, and he felt his stomach drop. She’d filled the role he’d left behind. It was _her fault_ he’d left it. Her fault he was turning on himself, uncertain of what he was after now. Her words still echoed through his mind. 

_“You loved him.”_

He couldn’t have. 

“Captain, watch out!”

Sasha sprinted towards them, but she failed to make it in time. Mike’s unexpected blade struck Hanji’s with a clang, freeing Levi from his compromising position on the floor.

Hanji bolted, and Levi stood to follow her. But a hand on his shoulder stopped him from pursuing. Levi knew who was there without turning to see him, and Erwin spoke. 

“Calm down, Levi,” he said. “We need to act rationally. Secure the key and the mer—we need him if we’re going to end this.” 

Levi ignored the order. He shrugged the commander off and moved as quickly as his bad leg would allow him, searching the crowd of billowing smoke and bodies for Hanji.

They were on course for the center of the sea—the spot on the map Petra had marked as the power’s location. They’d arrive within days. They’d _end this._ But how would it end? With Eren strung up by the navy’s nets? The mer used as a sacrifice to steal the power of the seas?

_Shit._

Levi could see the brat staring up at him: his mouth curving into an uneasy grin, his cheeks flushing red, his eyes—even when gold—the most beautiful treasure he’d ever seen.

He seemed so much like a human. So far from the monster Levi believed mer to be. If they were all like that, if the creatures were like him, then Eren had been right. _Levi_ was the monster. He’d slaughtered more than he could count—with the exception of one. 

_“Eren, I_ _—_ _I don’t know what to think anymore.”_ Given another moment, the words would have left him, ready on his tongue. _“But I don’t want to hurt you.”_ But the assault from the _Sinna_ had thrown him away from the cell before they could, and here he was now, readying his counterattack.

“Hanji!” He found her at the front of the ship, and he freed his blades as he lunged for her, striking hard into her cutlass.

“My dearest Captain Levi!” She pushed him back, performing a mock bow when they parted. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” 

“Cut the crap!” Another cannon fired, rumbling the ship beneath them, and Levi steadied himself against the gunwale, his calf throbbing. He hadn’t forced his body to perform like this since escaping the nest, and it screamed in protest when he dodged Hanji’s next strike. 

“I’m not cutting anything,” she cackled. “You know this is wrong. This is Eren!” 

“Dammit!” He swung Hanji’s way, and she jumped back. “You should have told me, Hanji! You should have told all of us!” 

She grabbed her stomach, the sounds escaping her equal parts laughter and sobs. Levi paused, blades growing heavy in his hands. 

“You really think they didn’t know?” Her face raised to his, tears streaming down her dirtied cheeks. “Even Olou figured it out before you!” 

Levi’s heel met the top of her foot, and he dropped his weapons to grab her shoulders, shaking her as she continued to laugh. Then she went silent, and he felt himself crack.

“Or maybe you did figure it out, Levi. Maybe you knew all along, and you just didn’t want to believe it.” 

“Shut up!” 

“Will you open your damn eyes! Your—Your eye!” It was now Hanji with her hands on the man’s shoulders, and she shook him more furiously than his weak leg could handle. “Eren isn’t a monster! He’d do anything for you!” 

_Crash._ The bottle shattered when it met her face, glass splintering her skin, blood streaming from her eye. Her hands went limp on his shoulders, and Hanji crumpled to the floor. 

As if his knees weren’t giving way already, Levi followed her down. He reached for her face, glass shards scratching his palm when he touched her, his fingertips coated with stinking liquid and blood. “Shit, Hanji!” 

The soldier remained hovering over them, the shattered bottle still dripping in his hand. 

“You little shit!” Levi shot upward and threw the soldier away from his quartermaster. But no, she wasn’t that anymore. His… friend? And if not even that, then at the very least, someone he would protect. He would have killed him if his blades were in hand. He would have beaten him to a pulp if Moblit hadn’t appeared at that moment. 

“Hanji!” The medic rushed to her side, pulling his pack open as he kneeled on the floor. Levi abandoned the soldier to join him, and—for once—Moblit wasn’t terrified by his presence. He worked quickly and efficiently, pouring a jug of water over the wound on Hanji’s face, washing the gruesome mess away. 

“I don’t understand,” Hanji’s attacker began, standing back up behind them. “What are you doing? She’s our enemy.” 

“I’m going to wring your throat!” Levi reclaimed his weapons, but as he lunged for the soldier, he caught sight of what was happening on the other side of the deck. 

Mikasa carried one end of his body. Armin struggled to manage the side with his fin. If… if that _was_ a fin. 

Eren’s screams demanded the ship’s attention—those same screams Levi had heard coming from his keep so long ago. He’d broken the doors down to reach him then. He would have done anything to make sure Eren was alright. 

He’d do anything now. 

\- - -

“Can’t you find it any faster?” 

“If you’d shut up, then maybe I would have by now!” 

“You—” Jean started, but a soldier came at him then, and he paused to strike them back. “Just open the damn door, Ymir!” 

They stood back to back, Jean guarding her flank as Ymir fumbled with the keys. The captain’s—rather, the _commander’s_ _—_ quarters were the last place he wanted to be, but it was the only nook left aboard the _Rose_ they had yet to search. If Historia was on the ship, she had to be here. 

And… she would be. They hadn’t docked on land yet, so there was nowhere else for her to go. It wasn’t as if the girl could just jump into the ocean, she wouldn’t survive that. Battles drew mer in close, and bloodshed sent them into a frenzy. No one—and he truly meant _no one_ _—_ could make it out alive. 

He’d jumped at the chance to help Ymir, to put a bit of distance between himself and Eren. Seeing the guy like that was terrifying—claws and fin and fangs—not to mention disgusting—bloodied and torn apart. 

What would it be like to fall over the side of a ship, to plummet into the water, to meet a creature like him? 

Jean gagged. He was going to make himself vomit again. 

“Got it!” Ymir said. “Now move your ass and get in there!” 

He turned, rushing through the open doorway, and something slammed into his face. Jean stumbled back, but Ymir pushed him forward until he hit the blue patterned carpet on the floor. His head pounded, his pulse thrummed in his ears. 

The doors clicked shut. Ymir rushed past Jean, throwing herself to the other side of the keep. She grabbed the quilts laid neatly over the bed, throwing them to the floor. She flung the chairs away from the table, ducking to check underneath. 

Jean groaned while Ymir continued her search, pinching his nose as he got onto his knees. What the hell had _that_ been? He turned back to where he’d entered, almost laughing when he saw her. She was so small in the grandiose room, her brows pointed down in an expression he hadn’t seen from her before. Her hands were in a defensive position, clinging tightly to a large book. 

“Ymir?” Historia said, eyes glistening with tears as she stepped into the lantern light.

The other’s breath hitched, then Ymir was beside Historia before Jean could even blink. The book thunked into the carpet nearly as hard as it’d hit Jean’s face, and the two wrapped around one another.

“I thought you went back.” Ymir ran her hands along the sides of Historia’s face. “I thought, I thought that maybe—”

“I couldn't leave you, you big dummy.” She laughed, prodding Ymir’s chin with her finger. “You haven’t married me yet.”

Ymir chuckled. It was the first time Jean had ever seen her so… happy. He watched as her head ducked down to Historia’s, and their relief, their reunion, their kiss pierced his chest. 

The air in his throat burned, and his mouth went dry. Jean choked, realizing that he’d stopped breathing. Then his hand came up, pressing against the ache in his forehead. 

“Oh no, Jean!” Historia hurried to him, kneeling down to caress his face. “I’m so sorry! I thought you were a soldier, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“I’m—I’m fine,” he said, releasing a heavy breath. But he knew that wasn’t true. He hadn’t been fine in months. “I’m happy for you.” 

“That’s an odd way of showing it.” 

“Ymir!” 

“No, she’s right,” he whispered. He moved to stand, and Historia shifted to help him up. “I had someone, and I… I can’t imagine how it’d feel to find him again.”

He made his way to the doors, taking hold of a handle and bracing himself to face the madness on deck. 

“Come on,” he said. “We need to get you both out of here.” 

“What was his name?” 

“What?” Jean asked, looking back to where Historia hadn’t moved.

“What was his name?” she repeated. 

Jean’s eyes fell to the floor, studying the patterns swirling over the carpets. His name, his face, his voice… _everything_ came back at once. “Marco.” He felt his lips twitch; his mouth spread into a weak smile. “His name was Marco, and he’d want me to help keep you safe.”

“What a guy,” Ymir said. 

“He was.” If she was challenging him, Jean didn’t care to accept. “Now come on.” 

He pushed open the doors, leading them into the chaos. A battle wasn’t the place to mourn, to have his mind reeling with thoughts of all he’d lost. But he felt the air rise within his chest, standing taller when they walked outside. Something inside of him shifted. He was proud of what he was doing because Marco would have been proud of him, too.

But the situation wasn’t promising. 

The _Rose_ retaliated with the full force of the army they were. Cannonballs volleyed into the _Sinna._ Their able-bodied allies’ numbers were dwindling. Smoke covered the crowd on the ship, and Jean could tell most of the sailors left on board were navy. 

“Jean!” Connie called from up ahead, his eyes blown wide as he guarded their escape route. The plank rattled with each blow of battle, they needed to get out of here _now._ “Did you guys find Krista?”

“It’s Historia,” she corrected. The pair rushed ahead of him, hand in hand and clinging to each other. ”Can the ship even sail out of this?” 

It was a valid question. Each of the _Rose’s_ attacks whittled away at their chances of escape. 

“What other choice do we have?” Ymir said.

They exchanged a glance, then both went silent. 

“Hey! You guys, over here!” Sasha’s arms waved above her head, then one came down, defending herself from a soldier. As she got closer, Jean could see those she was leading: Mikasa, Armin, and the monster they’d fought so hard to protect. 

Eren cried out, sobs escaping him, his body lurching in their arms. Connie fled the side of the ship, rushing over to take some of Eren’s weight from Armin. Their pace quickened, but before they joined the rest of their crew an attacker went straight for Eren, knocking them all to the floor. 

This was the worst way that things could go. Hanji was supposed to have taken care of him. She was the only one with a shot of making the man think straight. Captain Levi reached his arms under Eren’s, then he started dragging him towards the hatch. Mikasa wouldn’t have it. She recovered from the attack with ease, back on her feet in an instant. But she faltered—her swords couldn’t hit Levi without striking Eren as well. 

Jean stepped forward, ready to help his friends. But under the volume of the shrieking crowd and thundering gunfire, he heard hushed whispers grow loud. 

“Historia, no.” Ymir shook the other’s arm, her voice wavering. “They could be down there!” 

“So what if they are?”

“I don’t know if I can protect you—”

“It’s not up to you to protect me!” 

“Like hell it isn’t! It’s my fault they have the key, I sold the map—” 

“And it’s my fault you’re caught up in this in the first place!” Historia shook her head, taking hold of Ymir’s hands. “Frieda wanted you to watch out for me. Her charms—” 

“I don’t care about her charms. You’re the reason I’m here, but I… Historia, I protect you—I’m here—because I want to be.”

“Then let me protect you, too.” 

They were unbothered by the clank of metal and bullets soaring around them. Then Historia gathered her skirt, freeing her legs to climb onto the gunwale. She offered a hand to Ymir, and when she accepted, both stood on the edge of the ship—teetering, ready to meet the same fate that Marco had. 

Jean moved as they did. He grabbed hold of Ymir’s wrist as her feet slipped from under her, as she began to fall. He gripped the edge of the gunwale with one hand, his other held tight to his companions, muscles trembling with the weight of them both. 

“What the hell?” Ymir tried to free herself. “Let go of me!” 

“Are you crazy! Don’t you know what’s down there?” 

“Jean, it’s alright!” Historia clung to the other, holding on to her instead of trying to get back onboard the ship. The wind threw about her hair, coating her in ocean spray. Her eyes were blown wide and… and _gold._ “Thank you.” 

Ymir pulled her arm back, freeing herself of Jean’s grasp, then both of them plummeted down. Jean cried out for them, but he wasn’t spared a moment to recover, to even _question_ what he had just witnessed. 

“Jean!” Connie’s voice echoed overhead. He turned, finding the other holding Sasha, carrying her to the plank. Mikasa and Levi were a fury of blades, dual swords clashing and pushing one another. Armin was on the floor, attempting to wake an unconscious, _human_ Eren. In the distance, Hanji—a navy sailor hunched over her, tending to a wound on her face. 

Another cannon fired. 

They needed to go. They needed to escape. If they didn’t now, they wouldn’t have the chance again. 

“Damn it!” Jean ran for them. He grabbed hold of Armin first, yanking him by an arm up to his feet. Then Mikasa. He’d expected more of a fight from her, but she practically melted into him, her body ready to collapse. She’d reached her limit—they all had—they were utterly exhausted. 

“Wait!” Mikasa’s shaky voice croaked through exasperated breaths. “Hanji, Eren! We can’t leave them!” 

Jean didn’t want to leave anyone behind any more than she did. But they’d just lost Ymir and Historia, who’d _jumped overboard_ instead of sharing their fate. He glanced at Eren, his body sprawled atop the floorboards, but there was the captain—hostile, bloodied, blocking their path. 

“I’m sorry.” His jaw tensed, then he pulled Mikasa and Armin back, crossing the plank bridging them to the _Sinna._ He watched the _Rose_ as Connie unlatched the board, morning light peeking over the horizon. The ship rocked beneath them, in even worse shape now than it had been in before. Historia had been right to doubt: he had no idea if they could sail anywhere. And — _again_ _—_ they’d lost their captain.

“Sorry, Hanji.” Jean whispered, his eyes still trained on the navy ship as they raised their sails, catching the wind and drifting away. “Sorry, Eren.”

The plan had failed. 

Jean wasn’t someone to be proud of after all. 

He released the others, dropping to his knees. Running his hands through his hair, he cursed himself. He cursed all of them. Ymir and Historia. Levi and Eren. They all had what he didn’t—what he _couldn’t_ have anymore: something — _someone_ _—_ to fight for.

He’d lost everything, and there was no finding it again.


	23. When All Is Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHOY!
> 
> It's me! And another update! Thank you guys so much for reading and for your response to last week's chapter <3 It was SO tough for me to work on, so your kind words and encouragement really mean a lot T^T 
> 
> I feel like I've been waiting on this chapter for ages, and that's all I'm going to say about it for now because I'm excited xD It would not be nearly as exciting without my betta Sidereality, though. Thank you for helping me edit and for being an all around amazing human (or... fish?) <3 
> 
> I hope you had wonderful holidays and have a great start to 2021! I'll sea you next year! :,D

_Stay out of the water._

It was a universal rule—an unspoken law binding sailors who dared to travel the sea. He’d learned it when he was young, when he had just been a child throwing and reeling in nets.

_Stay out of the water, or you’ll be eaten alive._

He should have listened to the old fishermen—they’d seen more years than he could ever hope to in his life. He should have heeded the wisdom they’d thrust upon him. He should have stayed on deck. 

But the girl in the water was drowning… and he couldn’t just leave her to die. 

The sailor held tightly to a rope, rappelling down the side of the ship. He stretched his hand out to where she beat the water with her arms—terrified, frantic, just out of reach. A blast fired, a cannonball smashing into the hull he clung to. The threads of the rope burned as they slipped in his hand, panic surging in his chest. A cry escaped, but he caught himself before he could plunge into the sea. 

He didn’t have a death wish. He didn’t want to be eaten, but he didn’t want this girl to be, either. 

“Come on, reach!” He kicked off from the soaked planks of the hull. Arm outstretched, fingers extended, he reached for her. But before he could take hold of her hand, before he could save her from such a horrific fate, she freed _herself_ of the rampant waves. 

She leapt from the water, and in a sudden flurry nails sunk into his skin. Claws dragged him down. 

One eye stung with sea salt. The other twisted with the drowning girl’s fingers. His mouth opened to release a scream, but it was muted by the water that came billowing in, forcing its way down his throat. 

He choked on his cries. He’d been foolish. He’d always cared too much about others—that’s what he’d been told, anyways—when he should have been thinking about himself, about those he’d risk leaving behind. 

Instead he’d been lured into a trap like a creature of prey. 

The world around him flashed silver and gold. The mer’s teeth met his face, and clouds of red joined the ensemble of colors. His pleas for her to release him went unheard, trapped forevermore in the conch spiral of his throat. He pulled at the swirling tresses of her hair, kicking helplessly, failing to free himself. Then something sharp stabbed into his leg, and he felt the pierce of a bite.

_You’ll be eaten alive._

And just like the warnings always went, he was going to die a fool’s death—even though he still had so much to do. They hadn’t spoken yet, even though they’d had so many chances to. He’d missed one just the night before, when they had been wandering the moonlit beach. The trinket was still tucked away in his coat pocket, waiting to be unveiled. 

He’d pulled it free from his catch that day in the harbor. That first day that he’d seen _him._ He hadn’t taken well to the tasks the fishing captain demanded of him. “ _Too dazed; too distracted,”_ was what he had said.

And he was right. The boy’s eyes and ears wandered, directing themselves to the procession of green and white carriages coming to a halt on the street.

“Chancellor’s bastard,” the old captain remarked when another boy jumped from one of them, trailing a woman and tugging her skirts. 

“Still keeps it and the mistress around?” Another fisherman huffed. “What a disgrace to the Crown.” 

The pair went on grumbling about the poor state of parliament—how far they had fallen from grace to have such people in charge of the colonies. The fishing boy tried to listen, for a moment, he really did want to focus on his work. But the chancellor’s son stole his attention. His superior distracted, the fishing boy snuck another glance. 

Light hair was slicked back. He was dressed in fine silks. A far cry from the other— _everything_ he’d always wanted to be. 

Politics became an important matter to the fishing boy as he grew into a man. Town halls, executions… he’d go anywhere if it meant catching glimpses of him. It became a simpler undertaking when the chancellor’s son started visiting the harbor himself, when he started learning to sail. He even had his own boat, his own crew. But still, he belonged to another world, one unknown to people of lower classes. One the sailor was trapped on the outside of, just hoping to get a peek in. 

The sailor had kept that hook with him since first laying eyes on the other. It was hardly anything out of the ordinary, but it meant everything to him. The thin metal between his fingers reminded him of that day, of those feelings, of his determination to be more than what he was. And when the day finally came that he’d made it, that he was as incredible as the boy bathed in golden sun, he would give it to him. He’d tell him _everything:_

That the hope of their meeting brought him back to that harbor each day. That he’d enlisted in the military just for the chance to free him. That he’d stolen the old man’s fishing boat so he could escape his sentence, so that they could run away. 

They still hadn’t spoken of it. The sailor had never told him, and the forgotten hook weighed him down. 

He was alone. The monsters were gone, at least for the time being, but their voices rang through the water, sweet and melodic tunes that were somehow still haunting. Were they singing before this, or had they simply been muted by his struggle with the sea? He couldn’t be certain. He drifted with the current, cradled by their melodies. His unscathed eye peeled open, and all he wanted was to close it. To rest. To drown in the memories of all he’d lost. 

But this was his chance to get away—to make known all those things he needed to say. Those monsters could return at any moment, and he felt himself fading. He needed air. _He needed to breathe._ Heavy limbs moved through the water, and when he broke past the surface above he gasped for breath, trying desperately not to feel the agonizing pulse of half his body.

The ships were unbothered by his absence. They fought mercilessly, cannons launching into one another at a rapid pace, the sea writhing with each disturbance. 

“Help!” he cried, an arm waving above his head while the other tread the water. “Down here! Help me!”

But no one heard him, or perhaps no one was listening. After a final series of attacks, one ship parted from the other, gliding over the large mountains of waves effortlessly. The larger vessel pursued it, leaving him behind.

“No!” The sailor beat the surface, weakly attempting to follow. On his path he found a severed board floating atop the water. He clung to the splintered wood grain, forcing himself on top. “Please, just—just wait!” 

He could only watch as they disappeared, crossing the far horizon. His reaching hand fell away, along with his hope for survival. Stranded. Stranded _in the middle of the ocean_ and _in waters with mer._ He grabbed at his mouth, quieting the sobs ready to escape. But the sensation of touching his skin was not a familiar one. It burned, it ached, and he screamed. 

But then his leg screamed even louder. He dragged his foot up onto the board, teetering to balance his weight, and squeezed at the bone, the flesh, the shredded remains of what was no longer a full piece of his body. Blood painted his hands, running off of him into the ocean like rain streaming down a curtain of sails. 

He bit back the pain, fighting hard to remain conscious. With a quick pull, the leather of his boot—perforated with marks of claws and teeth—peeled away from his skin, and he tossed it into the pools of red surrounding him. One hand remained on his leg while the other searched for the sash at his waist. Though there was no grace in the action, he moved quickly, wrapping it around his shattered limb and squeezing with all the strength he could manage. 

The knot tied, and he fell over. Bile rose up from his stomach, and he heaved into the already soiled water. The image there stole his attention, trapped on the surface by late morning light, and his reflection stared back. 

The right side of his face had been mutilated, and whatever was left hung by thin tissue strings. His fingers prodded the gruesome image, the one that was hardly recognizable as him. The responding twinge of pain was too much to bear. His back met the board’s surface, and he lay there—alone, _abandoned,_ falling into the dark. 

This was the end for him. He’d broken _the rules,_ and for it, he’d been eaten alive. 

But he woke up. 

A chill bit his skin. Goosebumps raised over all that was left of him. His body shivered in weak quakes. His breath materialized as clouds in the air. 

He shifted where he lay on top of the wooden board, the sea reaching for him—its grasp even more painful than the cold. His eye—swollen and blistered with sleep—opened, finding that the world around him was still dark. 

Hours had passed, and night had fallen. A cough failed to leave his lips, lingering instead in the back of his throat. A simple death wasn’t punishment enough, apparently. The sea had condemned him to a far crueler fate. A slow, torturous end. 

The water was still. There was a peace that hadn’t been present before. He heard the trickle of movement echoing through the silence, but he didn’t move to investigate it. He didn’t want to see what bottom feeders had come for him. His body wasn’t even strong enough to.

He let his eye close and awaited the attack. He waited for the punishment that should have been delivered as soon as he’d ventured in. 

_Stay out of the water._

Why couldn’t he have listened? 

He listened now: to the sound of movement through the water, to the creature drawing in close, to the inhale and exhale of its breath, to the low hum of a song leaving its lips.

His body shook more furiously, not from the cold, but from his fear. From the anticipation of his ending. From all that remained unknown. 

His eye shot open, taking in what terrors had come for him, and the strength to fight—or to move, at the very least—returned at once. Seeing her—that hair, her mouth, the closeness of her face—sent him back, and he nearly tumbled off the hardly afloat board. 

His hand was reaching once again. But not to help her, not to try and save the day. It kept them apart, held the distance between them. Between the foolish sailor and the drowning girl. 

The mer. 

“Hey,” she said.

The sailor’s mouth gaped wide, and weak bawls croaked out. She couldn’t _really_ have spoken. Did mer… even speak? 

Then she sighed. 

Did they sigh, too? 

“Look, I get that you’re afraid of me.” 

“A—Afraid of you?” He would have screamed if his voice wasn’t so hoarse. “You tried to eat me! You—You did eat me!” 

“I couldn’t help it, okay?” 

“What is that supposed to mean! You’re a… a monster! How are you even talking to me?” 

“All of us can talk,” she said. “You just don’t listen.” 

“Are you here to finish me off?” The sailor whispered in shaky breaths, tears beginning to form. “Just make it quick. Come on, isn’t _this_ hell enough?” 

Another sigh, and the girl’s face sunk down into the water. Her eyes remained above the surface, watching him, waiting for the chance to kill. 

“Are you really asking me to eat you?” 

“No! That’s—That’s just what you’re going to do, isn’t it?” 

“What I’d _like_ to do, maybe,” she said, her gaze directed away from his. “But I think we can be more useful to each other than that.”

“Useful? Just what do you mean by useful?” 

“I need information— _insight._ And, well, it’s pretty obvious what you need.” 

Was a mer really speaking to him? And… offering to help him? She’d been the one to lure him into this mess in the first place, of course, and his body had been torn apart because of her. But maybe there was more to the story… maybe they could talk things through. 

_No._

“You just want to trick me.” There were plenty of such tales about the conniving beasts. “You want to eat me.” 

“If I wanted to eat you I would have by now,” she snarled. “I’ve been tasting your blood as long as I’ve been floating here. I’ll still gladly go for more—if that’s what you decide.” 

“Decide… me?” 

What mark would it leave on his soul to accept a deal from the devils? To give the drowning mer what she was seeking? What did he even have to gain? 

_Everything,_ he reminded himself _._ He patted his fingers inside his pocket, ensuring that his trinket still remained there. He’d lost _everything,_ but he could get it back. She was giving him the chance to.

The water moved again, and the sailor watched as two more mer breached the surface—their heads just peeking into the air. They remained some ways behind their companion. Watching. Waiting. 

Waiting for him. 

“Who are you?” he asked, uneasiness turning his stomach. 

“I'm Annie.” She leaned back her head, undisturbed by the others’ arrival. “And we’re warriors.”

\- - -

The warriors of the Sea King served his descendants in whatever ways were deemed necessary. 

Stalking. Theft. Murder. 

Nothing was too much to ask. Nothing was too extreme. But… _protecting_ somebody hadn’t been done before. Who among them would need protecting? 

A young girl—practically a child—left to live amongst strangers. To masquerade as someone she was not, as someone she could never be. Really, a human? And the daughter of one of their most prominent leaders? 

Zeke should have thought better than that. 

Historia had done all she could to aid their cause. She’d spied on her ‘family,’ she’d relayed information, she’d given her very life to what they desired. Or… she would. Soon enough at least. 

“I’m telling you this is a bad idea,” Ymir said, practically growling at her side. 

Historia ducked into her, lacing their hands. Even if the other was right, even if she was terrified of the consequences, she couldn’t show it. Ymir had been charmed to protect her, after all, and she’d serve her purpose until the end. 

“It’ll be okay,” she replied, assuring herself that maybe the words were true. “I’ll still be me, and you’ll still be you.” 

“You’ll still be you… as the Sea King? Really?” 

“The Sea _Queen,_ actually.” 

“Historia—”

“I’ve made up my mind.” And she had. This was her birthright, her duty. There was no avoiding it anymore. She was the heir to the power, regardless of those trying to steal it from her, and she’d claim it for herself. For… for the _cause._ For the restoration of their kind. 

To drag humans to their knees. 

She pulled away from Ymir, tucking her hands into the folds of her skirt. The fabric swayed with each stride of her body, and she released a deep breath. Humans were ingenious creatures—they’d figured out how to weave these very threads together, hadn’t they? But her family was set in their ways, and so were the pirates on that ship. 

It was as if that man—the commander—had known every detail about her when she’d been led into his quarters. They’d sat at his table—he’d even prepared a meal—and what had supposedly been a kind welcome quickly turned into hours of an interrogation. 

On his own, Erwin Smith could steal the power of the seas. Given enough time, his mind and wits would lead him to it. But… with _him_ , with the captain—pain and purpose fueling his every attack—it was obvious what the outcome of their heist was going to be. 

Their days were numbered. Mer were done for. 

It was time for Historia to accept her role in this play. She would become the leader her kind deserved. She’d protect them. She’d set them free, even if that meant destroying herself in the process.

“This is it.” Ymir stopped, kicking against the dock, face pointed at her feet and hands in her pockets. “Are you sure about this, Historia?” 

“Hey.” Historia dragged the other’s hands back out, fitting them into her own. “Don’t shut down on me again, okay?”

It was those charms—Ymir was devoted to keeping Historia safe; any semblance of danger was bound to drive her mad. The center of the sea and the power contained there were well beyond danger, but it was more than just that. 

If things went wrong— _hell_ , even if they went right—there was no telling if they’d see each other again. They could be caught by rippers, strung up in nets or bound by ropes, a pair of trophies considered some human’s greatest prize.

Or they would succeed.

Historia would inherit the power of the seas. She’d succumb to the others’ will. She’d do their bidding. How much of her would be left after that? 

Historia’s own plans for her life would be lost. And where would that leave Ymir? There were the other descendants and their warriors, sure. But… Ymir didn’t have anyone else, not really. Not since she’d been plucked from the ocean and caged, used as an object of worship for some deranged human cult. 

Frieda had discovered her while undercover in the navy, so perhaps Ymir would remain loyal. Though… that wasn’t likely. She didn’t approve of the risk Historia’s sister wanted her to take. She didn’t approve of anything. 

But Historia knew what she had to do, so she shifted her sights to the _Warrior,_ to their ship. 

“Red sails?” She said, directing their attention towards the vessel docked in front of them. The harbor was nearly empty—if any other ships found a home here, they wouldn’t be returning tonight. 

“Means no mercy,” Ymir muttered. “Keeps most humans away.”

“I see.” 

Historia approached, taking small steps towards the massive vessel, and Ymir trailed behind. She followed the stairs of rope latched to the _Warrior’s_ side, and in quick time she reached its gunwale. The ship was silent, unoccupied, even as she pulled herself onboard and traversed the deck. It wasn’t as if she’d been expecting a grand welcome—a celebration of her long awaited arrival—but someone or _something_ to at least say hello would be—

A blade pressed against her throat, and her body stiffened. 

“Who the hell are you?” A low voice said, and Historia could feel the man wielding the knife behind her. 

“Reiner!” Ymir shouted as she pulled herself over the gunwale. “Are you an idiot? Get off of her! That’s Historia!” 

“Ymir?” The man dropped his weapon, zeroing in instead on the other girl. “What are you doing here?” 

“Did you not hear me?” She groaned, a hand coming up to her forehead. “I just said _that’s Historia.”_

“The princess… so you’re not a myth.” It wasn’t a question, merely a statement as the man glanced back at her, starting to laugh. “But, Ymir, we thought you defected.”

“Look, it’s—it’s complicated.” 

“Yeah, it is.” Reiner crossed his arms, then he nodded at the mast. Another man stood ready on the post above, a musket pointed directly at them. “Because we did.” 

“You—you _what?”_

“Don’t make any sudden moves.” Reiner threw his arms between him and Ymir, keeping her at a safe distance. “It’s alright Bertolt, don’t shoot.” 

_“Shoot?”_ Ymir screeched, throwing the other’s arms out of her way, grabbing his shoulders to shake him. “You were going to _shoot?”_

“It’s a lost cause, Ymir!” He backed away from her, stumbling over himself. “Can’t we enjoy our last days with a bit of peace?” 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me! After all this shit, you’re turning tail and giving up?” 

“It’s more complicated than that. You haven’t been around humans like we have—” 

“Like hell I haven’t! We just spent months on a ship, and you’re telling me it was for nothing?” 

“You can still join up with the others.” 

“Don’t you get it? We need you to _take us_ to the others!” 

Reiner finally crumbled, his back sinking down against the mast post as his face fell into his hands. The man stationed in the sails dropped down, blocking Ymir’s path to the other. Bertolt slung his weapon over a shoulder, his voice low and mournful when he spoke.

“Maybe we get it too much,” he said. “We don’t want to fight in a war that’s already won. We don’t want to fight at all in the first place. Ymir, didn’t you used to feel the same?” 

“Yeah, you’re right about that.” Ymir shook her head to either side. “If it was just me, I’d get the hell away from here as fast as I can. But it’s not just about me, not anymore.” 

“It’s about all of us,” Historia proclaimed, fists balling at her sides. “We deserve to be alive, don’t we?” 

“So you mean that humans don’t.” Reiner looked up at her, his eyes heavy. “That’s what you’re saying?” 

“I—I don’t know what I’m saying. But there has to be some other solution to this!” 

“So much noise,” an unfamiliar voice interrupted, and the girl it belonged to emerged from behind the quarterdeck. “What’s with the fuss?”

“Annie!” Ymir piped, her arms flinging over her head. “Come on—you’ve gotta make these guys think straight! You don’t believe all the crap they’re spouting, do you?”

The newcomer stopped in front of them, tired eyes glancing between both pairs. “I don’t know what to believe,” she said, finally. 

“Screw all of you!” Ymir howled, eyes wide and teeth bared. “The warriors I knew wouldn’t have stopped at anything! That captain sure as hell won’t! What happened to you guys?”

They were silenced by a staggered beat, by the sound of a peg hitting the floors. Each step was slow, out of tune, a chaotic rhythm without the slightest inkling of what to expect.

“The captain of the _Sinna?”_ said the man approaching from belowdecks. “That’s who you’re talking about, right?”

“Who the hell wants to know?” Ymir was screaming, hands yanking at her hair, frustration almost forming a tangible aura around her. “Seriously? Instead of helping us, you guys were busy making new friends? What the hell are you thinking!” 

“Call it redemption,” Annie’s words fell under her breath. 

“On the _Sinna,”_ the trio’s ‘friend’ continued, focused on asking his own questions instead of answering Ymir’s. “There’s a sailor… His name is Jean _._ Is he still there?” 

Historia ignored the others as their argument raged on. She stepped towards this man, studying the crooked stature of his frame, the cane in his hand, the patch that failed to conceal the black-lined scars sprawled over half his face. 

“Are you Marco?” 


	24. Then All Is Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOO first update of the new year!
> 
> Thank you all so much for being here and for reading this story. Working on it has really helped me survive the craziness of the past 12 months and I've had a blast sharing it with you :,) I can't believe how far we've gotten and how close we are now to the end! 
> 
> An extra big thank you to Sidereality for being my lovely beta and for always encouraging me <3 
> 
> Enjoyyy, sea you next week! :,D

How long did it take a ship to sink? 

He’d mulled over the question for hours. He’d emptied more than his share of the crew’s rum (what was left of it anyways) into his stomach. He hunched over the gunwale, his eyes trained on the sea. The  _ Sinna  _ cried, creaking, her sails flapping pointlessly with each beat of the wind. 

How long would it take for her to drag them under, for the questions of fear and uncertainty directed his way to come to an end? 

Who the hell had even thought he was the person to answer them? He might have made a good captain if things had been different, if life hadn’t taken all the turns that it had. There was a time, some years ago, when he’d actually believed leading others was his purpose. That the meaning in his name—in his  _ father’s  _ name—gave him the right to be a leader of men. 

But he’d been a fool. He’d been arrogant, selfish, and completely wrong. 

His lineage wouldn’t aid him in relieving the crew’s worries. It didn’t help him come up with a plan to get them out of this mess—off of a sinking ship that was stranded in the middle of the ocean. Despite the odds stacked against them—billowing waves and rampant winds—the  _ Sinna  _ had survived through the night following the battle. She’d managed to keep them afloat. She was as resilient as her original captain had been. 

But he wasn’t. He couldn’t do this; he didn’t have any hint of an idea of what the hell to do. 

“Jean.” It was Armin’s voice—it always was—interrupting his thoughts as he pushed the bottle to his lips, taking another swig. He held it there for several moments, gulping down as much as he could in hopes that he would bore the other into leaving. After all, what was there to even say? 

“Hey,” he managed, catching his breath and wiping his mouth with his sleeve. 

“Sasha’s awake,” Armin said, snatching Jean’s arm before he could flee the side of the ship. “I know you want to see her, but just—just wait a minute.” 

“Wait for what?” 

“Jean.” Armin’s gaze fell to his boots, darting over the unkept floors. “What are we going to do? What… What  _ can  _ we do?”

“I don’t know.” He took another mouthful from the bottle, tossing it over the side of the ship when he was done. Then he pulled away, ignoring Armin’s question. “But I want to see her.” 

She was laid atop the quarterdeck, sprawled over quilts covering the floors. She’d managed to prop herself against the railing by the time Jean rushed up the stairs (or maybe Mikasa had helped her do it). The other girl kneeled at her side, one hand pressed to Sasha’s forehead, the other running over the copper fur of Hanji’s cat. Sasha stared at the creature—dazed, but giggling as it stretched over her legs. 

“Sasha!” Connie pushed past Jean, practically sprinting towards her. His trousers were soaked from the hems to his hips; he’d been braving the flooded quarters belowdecks, patching holes and repairing leaks. Maybe Armin should be asking  _ him  _ the questions. He seemed the most motivated of any of them to get out of this mess. “You’re awake!” 

“I didn’t even know I was sleeping.” Sasha laughed, prodding the bandages wrapped around her skull. “Say, uh, have you guys eaten breakfast?” 

“Here.” Mikasa presented a loaf of bread, practically shoving it into the other’s mouth. 

“Sasha, look at this!” Connie pulled his sleeve to his shoulder, revealing a thin line scratched onto the exterior of his bicep. “Check out my new scar!” 

“Whoa!” Crumbs of bread fell from her opened mouth, and Sasha scurried to gather them. 

“Just wait until you see hers.” Armin approached from the deck, his voice low and uneasy. “Those stitches should keep you together, Sasha, but you need to get more rest.”

Jean kneeled beside Mikasa, releasing a breath he’d been unconsciously holding, unsure of what he should say to her, to any of them. “We’re glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” Sasha began to laugh again, but soon coughs overwhelmed her and she wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing her abdomen. It took several moments for her to recover, then she went back after her bread. “Any more, Mikasa?” She asked before she’d even finished swallowing. 

“That was the last of it.”

They had been on their way to port when the  _ Rose  _ had begun trailing them. The supplies should have lasted a few more days, but they’d been soiled in the flood caused by damage to the hull. 

“So I guess we lost, huh?” Sasha whispered, returning her hands to the cat.

“We just need a new strategy,” Mikasa said, clenching her fists. “I know we can do it. We can save—“

“Shut the hell up!” 

Everyone was staring at him, their mouths gaped and eyes wide, before Jean realized he had spoken. 

“It’s over, Mikasa,” he continued, his voice cracking. “We lost. We’re gonna meet the ocean floor before you get to see Eren again.” 

“Jean—“ 

“He’s  _ gone!”  _ He cut Armin off, shutting his eyes. He’d listened to more than enough of the other’s fantasies. “It’s time to move on now.” 

When his eyes reopened, Mikasa was standing above him, her face directed towards the sky. 

“I’m not giving up,” she said, looking down where Jean still kneeled on the floors. “Not on Eren. Not on Hanji… and not on any of you.” 

“Mikasa,” Armin whispered. 

“You should take your own advice, Jean.”

He had nothing to fight for. Nothing left that was worth fighting. He’d told himself that time and time again, yet he’d remained on the  _ Sinna.  _ He’d remained with his crew. 

“Hey, do you guys see that?” Armin stepped over to the gunwale, his finger pointed at the horizon. 

Jean had been right, hadn’t he? 

“Maybe they can help us!” 

He’d been alone—he  _ knew  _ that—since the day  _ that sailor _ fell overboard. He’d lost it all. He’d given up already. 

“Are those sails… red?” 

So... why did the words sting when Mikasa said them? Why did he want to tell her she was wrong?

“Shit, Jean!” Connie’s hands were on his shoulders, rocking him back and forth. 

Connie was here. Sasha was here. Mikasa was here. Armin was here. 

“Come on, man! Snap out of it!” 

They’d been here all this time. 

“Jean!”

He hadn’t been alone—not even once. 

He fell into Connie, tension fleeing from deep within his chest. The sobs were taking shape before he could quiet them, and he squeezed his arms around his friend. It’d been so simple. So obvious. How much of a fool was he to have missed it?

“Jean, get off of me!” Connie pushed him back, holding him at arm’s length. “Stand up!” 

He blinked, tears falling from heavy eyes, but stood as Connie had directed him to, finding the other’s face completely flushed, dressed in fear. “What’s going on?” Jean asked.

“That ship!” Sasha pointed across the deck, past where Mikasa and Armin were throwing ropes rigged to the sails, to where a silhouette glided over the horizon—a phantom that had appeared from nowhere, yet was undeniably heading for them. 

The  _ Sinna  _ couldn’t survive another battle. She’d be sunk, and they’d be taken for all they had left. But… there wasn’t much to take. What they had left—what  _ Jean  _ had left—was the others. 

He’d fight for them until the bitter end. 

The enemy descended upon them, hooks on the ends of ropes latching to the  _ Sinna. _ She couldn’t defend herself in such a poor state. She couldn’t even sail away. The hull dipped on one side, dragged towards the other ship, water raining over the deck.

Ropes swung between the vessels, and an invader dropped down in front of Armin. Mikasa was there an instant later, pushing him back with her blades. She nearly drove him over the gunwale, he hadn’t even unsheathed his weapon yet. But with the swing of another rope, a second enemy joined the fight. 

The woman fought Mikasa with skill that rivalled her own. A single sword matched fairly against the two. And, shit _ ,  _ there was a  _ third _ invader. Connie dove for him as soon as the taller man’s feet landed on deck, singing a battle cry on his way. But then came a fourth, and if that enemy joined the fight, he’d outnumber the rest of them. 

Jean wouldn’t give him the chance. Defeat him, then move on to the others. Finish the fight before it began.  _ Go for the kill.  _

Jean sprinted down the veranda’s stairs and threw his sword in the enemy’s direction, but the man rolled away before it could strike. Jean didn’t relent, sending out another attack as he stood up. But it didn’t hit, either. It was blocked by a sword, no—by  _ a cane.  _ Who the hell used that as a weapon? 

Someone who—despite taking a moment to regain his footing—was agile. Someone who knew how to fight. Someone who was coming at him, arms spread wide. 

Jean skidded back. He wouldn’t let this man, or any of the attackers, take what was left away from him. He needed to defend his friends. He needed to fight.

So he did. He lunged forward, swinging his blade, lost in a haze and focused only on his charge. The cane met his sword, thwarting him again. Jean pushed against it, closing the space between him and the other man who, though he staggered for a moment, pushed with equal strength back.

His palms burned as they tightened on the rough handle of his blade. Despite Jean’s official experience and training, this opponent was a challenge. There was a time when he’d believed his own skills were unparalleled (a time long before meeting the captain or Mikasa). He’d thought he was better than such commoners back then. He’d been born to a powerful name, after all. 

But he’d learned that wasn’t the truth, that he was no better than the those on this very ship: a fighter with keen skills for working the sails, a swab with sharp intellect, a pair with more heart and compassion than he’d ever shown anyone.

“Jean!” Armin’s voice—just like always—was calling him out of his incessant thoughts. It’d been his own damn pride stopping him every other time, but he had reason not to listen now. 

Each twist of his opponent’s body caught Jean off guard. Each strike of that cane sent him dodging another attack. He set his eyes on the other man, determined to find an opening. But they lingered on the black-centered scars dressing his skin, on the patch concealing half his face, on the dark coat hanging off wide shoulders. He shoved with all the strength he could manage, cursing himself for becoming distracted, cursing himself even more for all of his pitiful drinking earlier in the day. Everything was muddy. Everything he did—every move that should have bested the other—landed short. It wasn’t enough.  _ None of it  _ was. 

The attacker threw him down, and before Jean could get himself back up his blade was kicked away. Then the man pointed the tip of that cane—metal and sharpened—straight at him.

“Who’s the captain here?” He said loudly enough for the others to hear, stepping closer to Jean. 

Only five members of his crew were left. 

Jean wouldn’t let any of them take the fall. 

“Me,” he finally answered, shifting in an attempt to grab his sword and finish his opponent off.

A knife was drawn before he could, and his enemy crouched in front of him, pressing it to his throat. “You?” He said, a smile forming on his mangled lips. He ran his hand through Jean’s hair, tugging slightly to lift his chin as he leaned forward. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Jean.” He could feel the other’s breath inching closer. He squeezed his eyes, bracing himself for what was to come. 

“Just Jean?” The enemy asked. 

“Just Jean.” 

_ “Captain Jean…  _ I like the sound of that,” he laughed. “Now, can you tell me what mine is?” 

Jean’s eyes reopened, finally meeting what was left of the other’s. One was hidden behind that patch, but the other stared forward, bloodshot and welling. Jean… he… he  _ knew  _ him. But that wasn’t possible. There was no way that it could be.

“Hey, dumbass!” He knew her, too, and he watched as Ymir finished latching a plank to the  _ Sinna, _ allowing Historia to cross. 

“You guys, stop it!” Historia screamed, jumping between the battle raging between Mikasa and her opponent. 

They’d survived. Ymir and Historia were  _ alive.  _ They were right here in front of him. Was this really what he was seeing?

“What the hell are you doing, idiot?” Jean thought Ymir was speaking to him, but she smacked the back of his attacker’s head, revealing otherwise. Then she kicked the wooden peg attached to one of his legs, forcing him to his knees. “Weren’t you just saying you’re in love with him?” 

Jean felt something stirring within him. He didn’t even need to hear Ymir speak again. 

“Nothing to say now?” She cackled. “Come on! If I had to listen to you spout all that crap then so does he! Tell him, Mar—“ 

“Marco?” 

He’d been turned to Ymir, his gaze directed down. Slowly, the man shifted, his face still hidden behind that goddamned patch, but his features coming into view.

“So you do know my name.” 

A smile. A weak, familiar smile. Torn on only one edge, yet…  _ changed  _ on the other. 

The man flinched when he came close, but through the tresses of his hair, Jean found the straps of that patch and began nudging them free. The other stopped him before he could, a hand grabbing hold of his. 

“Don’t.” His voice was rough, hoarse, so different than how he’d remembered it. His gaze fled from Jean’s, the crease between his brows deepening. 

“I know you,” Jean said, and Marco’s hand fell away. 

He let the patch fall with it, revealing what was hidden beneath. Jean’s fingers grazed the other’s face, tracing a thick pattern of scars, circling an empty eye socket, lingering on the curl of his lips. 

“I know you,” he said again. 

He was wrapped in Marco’s arms before aware that they were moving. So many months, so much time, yet Jean’s body still fit against his. Or it would have, but the other was stiff, rigid. He didn’t melt against Jean how he used to. He simply kneeled there, holding Jean within his arms, smiling like a fool. 

So much time. 

“Alright, everybody’s happy now.” Ymir waved them off then placed a hand to her hip. “So are you guys gonna help us, or what?” 

“Wait, what the hell’s happening?” Connie groaned, running both hands over his head. “That’s… That’s Marco? And Ymir, Kr— _ istoria _ —we thought you jumped! And who—who the hell are the rest of you guys?”

The other members of the  _ Sinna’s  _ crew were just as perplexed as Connie was. All but Armin.

“They’re mer,” he said, speaking up from his place on the floor. The intruder standing there shot him a glance, as if she was shocked to hear him say it. “Right?” 

“Yes,” Historia answered him. “It’s more… complicated than that, but that’s right. We’re mer.” 

Mikasa dove around the large man she’d fought, her arms clinging to his throat.  _ A hostage.  _

“Hang on! You’re—You’re  _ mer?”  _ Connie jumped away from the man he’d been fighting, separating them with the length of his blade. “That’s a load of crap—it’s gotta be! Right?”

“No, it’s the truth,” Ymir answered.

“But Marco’s a human,” Armin said. “So… you all—”

“We know about you and your friend,” the woman hovering over him said. “Did you think you were alone? That you’re the only people who realized we have more in common than just a face?” 

“You said you want our help,” Mikasa interrupted, still clinging tight to her captive. “What for?”

“Well, by the looks of it you need our help, too.” He grumbled under the pressure of her arms, and she tightened her hold even more.

“Power of the Sea King, Curse of the Mer—whatever you wanna call it,” Ymir sighed. “Historia’s gonna take it and make everyone live happily ever after. Sound good to you?” 

“Too good,” Mikasa replied. 

“We don’t want to fight any of you—“

“What?” Connie interrupted the mer he had fought, pushing his blade forward. “We were just fighting!” 

“You attacked first. We didn’t mean to start a fight by coming here.”

“Then what did you mean to do?” Jean asked, pushing his shock and confusion aside to focus on those who were speaking, to look upon the monsters that had invaded their ship. “What are you here for?”

“An alliance.” 

Jean leaned over the gunwale, no bottle left for him to empty as the  _ Sinna  _ cut through waves, following the  _ Warrior _ . 

Several hands at work could fix a ship quickly, they’d discovered. Luck, fate—whatever name it went by—had saved their asses today. He didn’t know how long it would take for their ship to sink, and he hoped to never find out. 

“We’ll make up for lost time,” Reiner—the poor guy Mikasa had nearly choked to death—had said of their decision to sail through the night. Though the  _ Rose  _ was larger, the  _ Sinna  _ was faster, and they desperately needed to reach them in time. 

Who knew what was happening on board that ship. Who knew how Eren was being treated. A sacrifice? If what the mer had told them was correct—and, come on, why wouldn’t it be? Historia was  _ royalty— _ then the navy had no idea what they were trifling with. 

He released a deep breath, uncertain of what the coming days would bring.  _ The center of the sea.  _ Their destination was clear, but what would happen when they reached it? The  _ Sinna  _ wouldn’t last another battle. Even though she was moving now, she was still a far cry from the gallant ship that she used to be. 

He ran his hand through his hair, uncertain of what  _ today  _ would bring. They’d lost so much time. He’d been alone—

But he’d  _ never  _ been alone, he reminded himself again. He had those on the  _ Sinna.  _ He had his friends. And even if eventually they went their separate ways, he was still him. 

He didn’t need another person for that. He wasn’t half of anything. 

The floorboards creaked as someone approached. 

“You don’t need to check on me, Armin.” He groaned. 

“Not Armin,” Marco said, hands tucked in his coat, his lips spreading uneasily. “I can go find him though. If you want, I mean.”

“No, I just...” Jean stumbled over his words, still shocked that he was looking at the other. Still in disbelief that he was here. “You left it off.” 

Marco ran his hand over where the patch had concealed his face. 

“Is that okay?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Jean laughed, taking hold of Marco’s wrists. “I missed that face of yours the most. Don’t hide it from me now.” 

That half-smile returned, and Jean felt the pull between them. But there was so much still unsaid, so much he didn’t know how to say. 

“You didn’t recognize me.” Marco pulled his hand away from Jean’s, linking it with his other as he leaned over the ship side. Silence fell between them. There was nothing but the sound of their breathing and the whistle of gentle night air.

“I thought you were dead,” Jean confessed, allowing his eyes to drift towards the sky. The stars were completely hidden, trapped behind clouds edged with moonlight. He wished they would shine through.

“I should have died.” 

“But you didn’t,” Jean nodded, assuring himself that it was true. 

“I didn’t,” Marco agreed. “So… what happens now?” 

“I guess we start again.” Jean retook Marco’s hand, and the other stood upright to face him. “We figure out who we are now. Is that—Is that okay with you?” 

“Yeah.” Marco’s hand squeezed his, that smile taking shape. “There’s just one problem.”

“A problem?”

“I want to kiss you.” 

Jean tugged him in by the collar of his coat. He’d never known Marco to dress himself in black, but he’d never known him to be so forward, either. He pulled him closer until their lips could meet, until he could feel him, taste him again. He’d intended it to be chaste, simply a gesture of how he felt. But just like those first days on their stolen boat, he was enraptured by the other, desperate for more. 

“I’m sorry,” Jean gasped, pulling away. “Are you sure you—“ 

But Marco pulled him back.

What was lost had been found. Though… he’d found more than just that. They weren’t the men they had once been. They’d been changed during their time apart, practically strangers now—strangers who still fit perfectly into one another’s arms. 

Time wasn’t resuming where it had been cut. This was the beginning of something different, of something new. 

Jean was more than what others expected him to be. He was more than the name that was given to him. He’d believe in himself, just like Marco— _ everyone— _ believed in him. 

“Marco Bott,” Jean said, the warm breath of the other’s laughter falling onto his lips. “I’ll kiss you every minute of every day if you’ll let me.” 

“As incredible as that would be,” Marco continued laughing, struggling to draw back enough to speak. “I wanted—Jean!—I want to talk to you.” 

“Can’t talking wait a while?“

Marco pulled Jean’s hand from his face, this time dropping something into it. He paused his pursuit of the other, staring at what he’d been given. 

“What’s this?” Jean asked. 

“It’s everything.” 

\- - -

“Oh come on! This is the best thing that’s happened since Sonny-Bean!” 

The familiar—though slurred—voice howled with laughter, echoing around him. 

“Seriously, we match!” 

Eren’s eyes peeled open, heavy and burning with exhaustion, and they found that wild brunette—her head leaned back, face wrapped in soiled bandages, flinging around a bottle of (what the stench assured him was) alcohol in her hand, locked inside the prison cell adjacent his.

“Really, Levi! You lost your right, and  _ ‘eye’  _ lost my left!” 

Her legs were beating the floorboards now, kicking up water and dirt. She threw her head back, knocking it hard against the wood.

“It’s funny! I’m telling you, ‘ _ Cap’n,’  _ this is amazing!”

“He heard you every other time, Hanji.” A man sighed. The medic—Moblit—was locked in the cell beside hers. On his opposite side was another person, and even more after that. 

He forced himself upright, discovering a pair of legs in place of his tail. A navy coat was wrapped around him, and he almost flung the offending item away before realizing that underneath he was bare. Bare, and shivering. His skin was wet from the shallow puddles surrounding him. He’d never felt this cold before. 

Perhaps this was the afterlife—if there was one for creatures like him. Maybe he’d simply been taken in his sleep. That could be why his old quartermaster was here. She’d seen far better days, if the blood soaked through her dressings gave him any indication. He hadn’t seen her in months, and if ever they were to have a reunion, he hadn’t expected it to be like this. 

“Hanji?” He croaked, rubbing his dried eyes. “Is that you?”

“Eren!” Hanji screeched, both hands clinging to the bars separating them. “Listen, I’m not buying it! He’s been sitting there all damn night, he could’ve done anything if he’d wanted to. Don’t listen to a word he says, don’t—“ 

“Good, you’re up.” 

That voice stole Eren’s attention—low and stern as usual, yet something… something lay troubled underneath. Eren’s eyes shifted away from Hanji, finding that Levi was free of his typical uniform, that he was turning the key to Eren’s cell and  _ opening it. _

“Come with me, kid.” 


	25. Hear it in the Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...AHOY
> 
> I hope you're all doing well and staying safe through the craziness this week <3 Thank you for being here, reading, commenting, and kudos(ing)! 
> 
> This is another one of those chapters I feel like I've waited ages for xD As always, thank you so much to my betta (fish) Sidereality for your edits and for encouraging me ;^; 
> 
> I feel like I had more to say, but I am so sleepy. For now... enjoy, and I'll sea you next week! :,D

“But…” he began to protest, tilting his head back to shield his eyes from the glaring sun. “Is it worth the risk?” 

_ “Everything  _ is a risk!” Isabel flew into him, catching his cheeks with pinching fingers. She poked and prodded at the soft skin, giggling all the while, until they both fell onto the deck. He spared her a moment to rethink her actions, but when she continued jabbing he threw her body off of his.

“It can be us or somebody else.” Farlan took a knee beside the pair as they scrambled away from one another. “But we can’t control what  _ somebody else  _ will do with a treasure like that.” 

“He speaks the truth, bro.”

“Think about it, Levi. That means control of the seas.  _ Armies of mer.  _ The ocean won’t be safe for anyone after that.” 

“I already said that I’ll protect you.” Levi stood, dusting nonexistent dirt from his vest, and made his way to the ship’s side. The light was beginning to fade on the horizon, falling below where the sky met the sea. They were supposed to be heading there—well, they were supposed to be heading _everywhere_ , anywhere that they wanted at any time. They weren’t supposed to be arguing over their next move; they shouldn’t even have been planning their moves to begin with. Spontaneity was the name of the game. “Let the rest of the world deal with this.” 

Farlan stood now, too, Isabel at his side. Both had their arms crossed over their chests. Both were trying to intimidate him. “If there’s even a world left,” Farlan retorted.

“I don’t give a damn whether there is or not.” Levi sighed, turning back around and resting his elbows on the gunwale. “When has the world ever given a shit about  _ us _ ?” 

They fell silent, and Isabel’s eyes dropped to the floor. 

“Well, I give a shit,” she mumbled so low that Levi could barely hear her.

“What was that?” 

“I said I give a shit!” Her voice cracked and she began to shake, fists clenched in front of her thighs. “This is  _ my  _ world, too! And I give a shit about it!” 

_ Her world.  _ But it wasn’t. It never had been. 

The world didn’t belong to a small orphan girl with a mud-covered face and ragged, matted hair. She’d always been a fighter—he’d known that since the day she’d challenged him when they’d been children—she knew when she’d lost and when to accept defeat. She’d accepted his hand when he’d offered to help her back up. She’d swallowed her pride when she’d lost their fight. She knew when to back down. 

She wasn’t backing down now.

“You know we’ve got the best shot at finding it—with you on our side, at least,” Farlan said. “We have to try.” 

The world didn’t belong to him, either. Not to a boy whose life had been sold without question. Stolen and packaged, labeled with a price. He’d gone along with the others since that life had been stolen back for him, since the day they’d helped set him free. Yet, now, he was speaking for himself.

“This isn’t up to us,” Levi croaked. “We’re supposed to be free.”

“What!? How are we free?” Isabel stomped forward, taking hold of his shoulders and shaking him. “Were we free to starve back home on the streets? Are we free to hang once the navy catches us now?”

He knew that Isabel was right before she’d even spoken. He knew that freedom wasn’t entitled to someone like him. The world had little interest in men without a class, in boys pretending to be stronger than they were, in children born without even a family name. 

“What about the monsters down there, Levi?” Isabel continued, dropping her hands away from him. “If this is freedom, then it’s been greatly oversold to me.” 

His eyes fell down the shape of the hull, to where the sea cupped the ship in her hand. Levi couldn’t make out the shapes of mer through the waves or hear the call of their songs, but he knew they were there: concealed in the darkness, lurking within the depths, watching, waiting. 

They always were. 

“What do you want to do with it, anyway?” He turned back, ruffling Isabel’s hair with a gentle hand. “We claim the power, and then what?” 

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Farlan laughed, joining the others at the gunwale as day gave in to night. “We destroy it.” 

A simple task lacking a simple solution. 

_ “Destroy it.” _

Levi had devoted his life to finding a way. Countless nights. Endless research. Stories of old… myths and fairy tales…

He’d been on to something. He  _ knew  _ that he had been. Given more time before reaching the nest, he might have uncovered the mystery behind destroying the mer’s power. He was so close to it now. He’d fulfill the promise he’d made to his family.

But he didn’t know if he had the strength to. 

Not when ghosts still haunted him, their faces such a distant memory that they were now only a blur. The monsters didn’t deserve his mercy when they’d never given anyone theirs. So why… why would he destroy it, when he could claim it for himself? When he could end this nightmare for good?

He didn’t know if he could overcome his own desires, if he could set aside his own will for theirs. 

Not when they were gone.

And not with those emeralds—bloodshot and heavy—staring up at him. 

\- - - 

“Didn’t you hear me? Get your ass out here, now.” 

Eren blinked, trying to rid the dry sensation from his eyes, but it didn’t help him understand what he was seeing. Levi stood in front of his cell, shoulders slumped, keys in hand, the door open on its hinges. 

“Levi?” He said, his lips quivering from the cold.

“Come on, brat. We need to go.” 

“Well, that’s just lovely!” The brunette screeched, clinging to the bars separating her cell from Eren’s. “You won’t talk to me for  _ hours,  _ and now you’re just going to leave?” 

“Hanji?” Eren swallowed hard, ignoring the influx of saliva in his mouth when the sweet scent of blood hit his nostrils, wafting over to him from the oozing cut on Hanji’s cheek.

“Hanji—“ he said again, the tears beginning to fall before he could think to slow them. Eren crawled towards her, clinging to the navy coat covering his body with one hand and reaching to her with the other. “Hanji, I’m—I’m so sorry. The crew, I didn’t—I couldn’t—“ 

“You have nothing to apologize for, Eren.” Hanji’s hands dropped down in front of her, and the eye that wasn’t wrapped in soaked bandages fell with them. “We all knew the risks, and no one would have blamed you for any of it.”

“But… everyone, I—“

“I said there’s nothing to apologize for, so don’t.” She released a deep breath, forcing a smile when she looked his way. “My dear captain, on the other hand—“

“I don’t have time for this shit.” Levi entered the cell, and Eren felt his body tremble as the space between them closed. The man grabbed his arm—firm, but not nearly as rough as he’d expected—and he pulled Eren to his feet. Levi yanked the coat out of his arms, quickly maneuvering it onto Eren’s shoulders until he was satisfied—even though his wrists poked out quite a bit beyond the sleeves. 

“No! Don’t go with him, Eren!” 

He paused, glancing back at Hanji. 

“We don’t know what he’s planning!” 

“Tch. Piss off, shitty glasses.” Levi reclaimed Eren’s wrist. 

“Wait! Hanji’s wounds need tending!” 

Moblit’s words stopped Levi from pursuing his escape. The man grew stiff, his feet suddenly planted.

“I know you want to help her, Levi. I saw how you were yesterday.” Moblit continued, his voice low and wary. “I’ll work through the bars—just, please, bring me my supplies.”

“I’ll only be gone a minute,” Levi answered, not even turning around. 

“I don’t want you touching my face!” Eren could hear Hanji crying as he was led up the stairs. “I’ll do it myself!” 

How had things come to this—Hanji locked inside of a cell… with Levi on the outside of it? 

The breeze prickled Eren’s skin as soon as they stepped outside. He shivered, his breath floating away into the low clouds of fog. The  _ Rose  _ was silent in sleep, lulled by the everpresent sounds of the ocean’s push and pull. But not everyone, he quickly realized, as something ahead of them shifted—the glow of a lantern as someone repositioned themselves in the dark. 

Levi was silent, too. Even as he rushed to the ship’s side, he didn’t make a sound. He didn’t even explain what was happening. 

Eren thought to ask him, to demand answers from the man. But he’d never explained anything, not even when he was his captain before. He’d never done more than issue orders, expecting Eren to follow his commands. 

Levi turned on his heel, his index finger raising to pursed lips as he released a low shush. 

Eren nodded, even though he didn’t know why.

Then Levi positioned his hand between them, expectantly. “Give me the key,” he whispered. 

“What!” Eren said too loudly, and Levi lunged forward, catching the other’s mouth with his hand. Eren shook his head, freeing himself of the man’s grip, and kept his voice quiet as he snarled. “It’s mine. You gave it to me.” 

“And now you’re going to give it back.” Levi reached for the other’s neck.

“No.” Eren took a step, escaping him by an inch. “You  _ gave  _ it to me.” 

“You don’t need it.”

“And you do?” Eren chuckled. “Oh, right, you’re going to kill me with it.” 

“You don’t know what I’m going to do.” Levi lunged for him again, but Eren caught the man’s chest with his hand, pushing him back. “Brat, I swear I’m going to cut your—“ 

“What the hell is going on, Levi? Where even are we?”

Somewhere he’d never been before. The smell in the air was unrecognizable, the waters around them completely still. His body quaked from the cold again, a reminder of just how different this place was. 

“Eren.” Levi closed his eye, inhaling deeply. The expression on his face—his jaw tensed, his brows pointed down—it almost made it seem like he was… like this was hard for him. “Just give me the damn key.”

“Why, Levi? Why do you need it?” 

“Because  _ you  _ need to get the hell away from here, you little shit,” he said, trying and failing to grab it from Eren again. “And give me my coat back.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“My coat. You won’t need once you’ve transformed, so—” 

“Not your stupid coat! What the hell is happening? I’m not leaving until you talk to me about this!” That hand was back on his mouth.

“You have to,” Levi whispered after a moment, slowly stepping back. “Please, Eren, just jump in the damn water.” 

“You hate me that much, huh?” 

Levi’s gaze darted away, looking everywhere except for him. “Would that make it easier?” 

_ “None  _ of this is easy! Dammit, Levi, will you just look at me?” Eren grabbed the other’s face, forcing him to stare straight ahead. This was the closest his hands had been since leaving the ragged scars there. He could still feel his fingers tearing through the skin. That patch didn’t hide his mistake, didn’t shield him from what he’d done. 

“Will you keep it down, brat?” Levi growled, forcing his hands away. 

“No!” His voice rang even louder. “I’m so tired of this shit! I won’t—“ 

He’d anticipated his mouth to be covered again, and sure enough, Levi moved, and his hand was there. But Eren hadn’t expected the rest of the man’s body to press against his, for the warmth of another to meet his bare skin where the coat gaped open. He stood there, stunned, silent, feeling the rise and fall of Levi’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, breathing all that he could of him in. 

Levi’s hands threaded into Eren’s, squeezing gently. Then his thumb stilled on Eren’s center finger—on the treasure that had been placed there. 

“You kept it,” Levi said, grazing the silver ring he’d lent Eren.

“You gave it to me.”

Levi’s head hung forward, his body growing small as if he was shrinking into the floorboards.

“Don’t you get it, kid?” 

Their hands parted. Levi stepped away.

“There’s something I have to do,” he said, palms resting against the gunwale, his face staring down. “And I have to do it alone.” 

“You don’t have to—” 

“I don’t have a choice.” 

“Well I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you… that you want to destroy  _ me _ .” He ducked his head down, attempting to force their gazes to meet. “Tell me I’m wrong.” 

Both were silent, the prey caught off guard by the accusation, the predator awaiting his answer. 

“Tell me, Levi.” 

“I don’t know if you are.”

They were silent for a moment, and Eren stepped away. 

“Then,” he started, “I guess I was wrong.”

“Eren—“

“I mean, I’ve always known that… that we’re different.” Eren ignored when Levi followed him. “There was no way that you could… because  _ I’m…  _ ” His breath hitched, and he allowed his hands to run through the thick tresses of his hair. “I just—” 

Those voices were screaming in his mind. Those of the innocent. Those of the guilty. It didn’t matter much either way, he realized now. The dead were dead. He couldn’t bring back any of those he’d killed, any human he’d eaten. Their faces stole his vision next, and his eyes squeezed shut tighter. 

“I never wanted to be.” Eren’s voice cracked, and the hands that had been pulling his hair moved to cover his ears. He felt his legs grow weak, his body ready to crumble. 

“Eren,” Levi said, his voice unsteady and right in front of him. 

“No, Levi, don’t look at me,” Eren said. “Get the hell away! You know that it’s true. I’m a—“

“Dammit kid, stop!” Eren felt the other’s hands take hold of his face as a sob shook within his chest. He allowed himself to grow still, to breathe, until he heard Levi speak again. “Will you open those damn eyes of yours?” 

Burning and heavy, still slick with tears, they slid open, pointed at the man’s leather boots. He blinked, letting them close again before facing the sight of the other—his contempt, his disgust at being so close to a creature like Eren.

But when his gaze finally fell upon Levi, he didn’t find that there. None of it. His eye was glossed over, his chin tilted up, the faintest trace of a smile spread across his lips.

“I only see you, Eren.” 

Levi kept one hand pressed against Eren’s cheek as the other trailed along the back of his neck. 

“I only see you,” he repeated. 

_ A monster.  _ That’s what he was seeing, because that’s what Eren was, what he was meant to be. There was so much to say, the words were ready on his tongue, but when Eren opened his mouth to argue only a faint whisper escaped. 

“Me?”

Levi laughed, seemingly unaware—or no longer caring—about his own rule to remain silent. “Don’t act so surprised.”

“But… You—You’ve said it. You’re not my captain. You’re not my friend. Levi… what am I to you?”

The hand on his neck tugged Eren down, and he could feel the pull grow stronger between them. His hands found a place on Levi’s back, running over the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the deep scars that had been left there by claws like his. His eyes locked onto Levi’s, moonlight glinting within the sliver, a flash so sudden it was like lightning. 

“Something more,” Levi said.

Eren could stay here, freezing on the edge of the ship, wrapped around Levi for the rest of eternity—or at least for the rest of his life. And he believed that he could. It was as if this moment promised an end to  _ everything.  _

His gaze fell from the man’s eye, lingering instead on his lips. Eren’s own twitched, and he knew what he wanted, what he needed, what he couldn’t have. And though the thought of it pulled him even closer, tripping the speeding rate of his pulse, he knew it wasn’t meant for him. Not for a killer—a monster—not with a mouth that had torn people to shreds.

It was an insignificant thing. He knew that it was. But the thought of it sent his unsteady legs trembling. In that moment he thought that a kiss, even just one, could change everything. That’s what they sang about in the songs, right? ‘True love’ and ‘happily ever afters.’ Just one, and it could bring the war between them to an end.

Maybe then he wouldn’t be a monster. Neither of them would be. 

He parted his lips, ready to claim Levi’s with his own. But the man suddenly grew rigid, caught in the glow of a lantern, a navy soldier screaming out. 

Nails scratched the back of Eren’s neck, and a second later the cord tied there snapped off. Levi yanked the key back, and in a fluid motion he pushed Eren forward, throwing him over the gunwale and into the sea. 

  
  
  
  



End file.
